No Escape
by littledragoneyes
Summary: Fay is a valued servant of Sauron. Then she becomes the 10th Ringwraith, for the 10th Fellowship member, a Mary-Sue. Yet Fay never ventured out of Mordor, and is horrified by what Sauron has done. Will she help the Free Peoples, or side with her homeland?
1. Chapter 1

Yo.

A new story! And one that isn't about animals! This story is just a random thing that popped into my head, nothing big. But anyways, enjoy and review!

Disclaimer: I still DON'T own ANYTHING. Nothing belongs to me, except for my character, Fay Evargent. All works go to J.R.R. Tolkien himself.

Oh yeah, and the Witch-King of Angmar is going to be called Morgomir. Yes, I know, that's the name used for EA Games' Battle for Middle Earth II: Rise of the Witch King, but it's the only good name I could use for him. The other Witch-Kings are going to be Khamûl, who is the second most powerful under Morgomir. And the others don't exactly have names, because they have forgotten their names. They have been given unofficial names and titles: The Undying, The Tainted, The Dark Marshal, The Shadow Lord, The Betrayer, The Dwimmerlaik, and The Knight of Umbar.

And I decided to give Sauron a human body. Just because it's just downright easier than talking to a giant eye everyday.

Plus, all credit for the research I looked up on the Ringwraiths and other stuff that you will see goes to (just take out the spaces between the periods and the words in the URL, because won't allow me to write down the URL completely.) lotr . wikia . com - great website for research. ;D

~littledragoneyes

**Chapter 1:**

My hands were worn and tough from consistently and constantly working day to day, nonstop. I wiped away a trickle of sweat with my dirty, damp sleeve, pushing a great big load of freshly killed prey on a cart, trekking over to a pen, where the fell beasts waited for their lunch.

No, you haven't gotten a single thing wrong yet. Fell beasts? Yep.

Heat surrounded me, enveloping me and probably making me sweat enough to lose five pounds a day. That was me - skinny as a twig. I only have skin, bones, and muscles from working day to day. I have a mighty big appetite, eat another five pounds, but then the next day, boom, I sweat my butt off and I lose that five pounds. It's just annoying in a way.

Opening the pen, I closed it behind me, swearing under my breath. Why did Mordor have to be so hot? Why did her mother and father have to befriend Sauron? Heck, he was an eleven foot high, flaming eye. He was creepy and he _never blinked_.

Is that creepy or what?

Well, until he turned into an seven-foot tall man with long, glossy black hair and steely gray eyes, with a creepy smile, then it was better because he could actually blink. But no amount of wrestling him could get him a bloody nose. Damn Maia. He can't get hurt like mortals. He's not even human, really.

Though while he was seven feet tall, I stood about five feet and half. Which, I guess, is an okay height for a fourteen year old. I hate looking up at him. I hate his perfectly straight nose. I broke mine when I was nine, and it's always been a little crooked. And when I look up at him, I see his nose first. And it's too straight.

My name is Fay Evargent, and my life is damn stupid.

If not, tell me why my family and ancestors had to become friends and servants to the Dark Lord? Why did we have to live in Mordor, which, in average, is about ninety degrees everyday, due to the fact there is a giant, constantly erupting volcano where I live? Why did my ancestors have to even start our life in Mordor, and then when Sauron came around, we let him take Mordor? Why -

You know what, it would be easier if I just explain my life to you.

I whistled to the waiting fell beasts, who raised their gigantic, spiked and dangerous heads. Twenty heads sniffed the air, their black eyes lighting up when they smelled the scent of freshly killed animals. Letting out screeches of their own, I winced as the ground rumbled beneath me as each one stampeded across the fields and crouched before me, their mouths drooling with disgusting saliva and their eyes widened with glee and hunger.

I gave them all cheerful smiles.

Only eight years ago would I scream and dive behind my mother, Syrene, hiding behind her skirts, crying that they wanted to eat me. My mother would laugh and hand me a huge hunk of meat and tell me to approach one of them and give it to them to eat. It was their meal, she would tell me joyfully, and they did not want to eat us. Sauron forbade them.

Why?

Because we were his servants. We raised his terrible beasts for him. My mother did, at least. She had a way with various sorts of animals, loving all, terrible, horrifying, ugly, beautiful, or noble. She didn't care. She loved them all.

But she did have a particular interest for dark creatures, I do admit. So we were animal-raisers for the Dark Lord. My father, Darforth, was an engineer, inventor, and an architect all at the same time. He built crazy, incredible inventions and machines alongside with the old wizard Saruman, who was also allied with Sauron. Together, they built Orthanc, the towers of Isengard. Together, they were always behind locked doors, discussing and talking about new things they could create.

And together, my mother and I raised different animals for Sauron, like fell beasts, giant spiders, dragons, (that all died out) Wargs, Cave-trolls, Crebain, Watchers, Oliphaunts with the Haradrim, and of course, horses, cows, sheep, lamb, pigs, chicken, duck, geese, and various of other farm animals for food.

All for which was for Sauron.

That was my family. We were always here in Middle-Earth. Raising creatures and creating tall, crazy structures and inventing things were our specialty. Even before Mordor was taken over by Sauron, and his discovery of a single family living here and breeding creatures and inventing advanced things.

And that was when he decided to have us serve under him.

In return for various animals and inventions, he gave us a home. Shelter. Food. Water. Clothes. Protection against the world outside. The unknown lands that I've heard before, like Gondor, or Rohan, or Rivendell, where elves supposedly dwell. He told me all about it. Sauron's wish was to rule Middle-Earth, because he believed that the others were ruling it wrong. He believed he would help Middle-Earth to power.

Something about all that hullabaloo.

In fact, Sauron was a good man to my family.

Well, what was left of my family.

My father died only a few years ago, and then my mother died from a broken heart. Me? I was left with the burden of work. I had to make up for what Lord Sauron had given my family. I was in debt to him. Years of work lay ahead of me, years of debt left to pay.

Because Sauron was like a father to me after my parents died, I was in no doubt that I had to keep working in Mordor under his orders until the War of the Ring was over.

"Hey!" I yelled as a particular fell beast snapped his jaws at a prey, trying to get to one. "Wait your turn!" I snapped. He winced at the sharpness, and then decided he would wait as well.

"Good boy." I congratulated him, and then picking up a heavy piece of prey, I tossed it with all my might into the air and watched the fell beasts snap at it, snarling and growling as they fought off the scraps of meat.

"No _fighting_!" I scolded them all. "Like I said, wait your turn."

Really, I think fell beasts are very obedient when you scold them properly. I tossed the rest of them into the air, making sure each one got their fair share of food. And once I finished feeding them all, I exited the pen to leave them to eat the bones as well.

I tucked a single strand of blonde hair behind my ear. Well, not very blonde anymore. It's more dirty blonde. I haven't washed in a few weeks. I think I may today.

Stroding away from the fields and fields of various animals, I came to another fence, fencing the animals from escaping. Opening, and closing the door behind me, locking it so nothing could get through, I went back to the Tower of Barad-dûr. I lived there, in one of the guest rooms. Most Orcs treated me as their princess, calling me "Lady Faylyna" or "Lady Evargent" when I insisted them on calling me just "Fay". But they were...stupid...really, it was Lady this and Lady that. Polite and pleasant.

The only bad thing about Orcs were that they were horrible at making jokes. I made a suggestion to them asking if they could give me a joke or entertain me with something that didn't include blood or violence.

They just stared.

Orcs guarding the entrance of the Tower of Barad-dûr bowed low to me as I swept past them, into the dimly lit halls. It was my home, the place I've lived in for most of my life. My other house, the one that my ancestors have lived in for many years, was destroyed by accident when the Orcs first decided to inhabit Mordor.

Running up the steps of a tower, I couldn't wait to dive right into my bath, submerging into the depths of heated water and washing out my hair and the grime on my body. But water was rather scarce and used only a little for bath water. So baths were rare, only once a few weeks.

Mordor doesn't exactly have a great water supply, except for where the inland sea of Núrnen. The soil there was slightly bit more fertile because it was moist enough to carry the sea's water. And the ash blown from Mount Doom makes excellent soil for planting. Most of our food was grown there.

I entered my room and into the bathroom gratefully, and closed the door behind me. I called for my maid, Daerua, who filled the bath with hot water. One, two, three, four buckets of hot boiled water was poured into my bath and once she finished, I stripped out of my clothes and sank into heated bliss.

I let out a sigh and let myself drift into it, relaxing my tense and sore muscles. It felt good. I was lucky to be in Sauron's care. He was a good person to me. A good foster father.

At the age of ten, when my parents died, until now, fourteen, I had to trudge through the fields of animals, carrying buckets of pushing loads of food to every creature we bred. I had to help various mothers and children into the world and then, feed them and care for them and keep them warm. Then, after that, I would be able to relax. And sometimes on different days of the week, I would go to Saruman and take my father's spot of his intelligence and help him create new inventions.

My life...is dreadful.

But it's necessary.

I scrubbed the dirt and grime off of me with a bar of soap, watching the swirling water around me turn a interestingly shade of brown. I could tell how much I worked by the color of the water. The lighter the color, the less I worked, and then the next day I would have to work extra hours to make up. I've calculated the amount of work I had to do, for the rest of my life, and then, for my children, if I did have one.

And...seems like it's going to be hell for me and my descendants to come.

But the hopeful thing was that if Sauron was defeated in the War of the Ring, maybe I wouldn't have to work anymore. I was free to roam and travel and visit the great places I've heard of, like the cities of Minas Tirith, or Edoras of Rohan, or the beautiful valleys of Rivendell or the great forests of Mirkwood.

Then again, Sauron was powerful. Saruman, his puppet, was also powerful. We had strong allies. Like the Easterlings, or the Haradrim. They had great captains, like the Witch-Kings and we had strong Orc fighters. The Mouth of Sauron served as an excellent ambassador, and Gothmog is a fairly good lieutenant of Minas Morgul. Well, at least Gothmog was smarter than the rest of the Orcs. At least he could keep a good conversation with me during dinner for more than five minutes.

So maybe I wouldn't be released from my never-ending services.

Finishing my bath, I grabbed a clean white towel and dried my hair, which was currently blonde than dirty-blonde. My skin, thankfully, had turned to its original shade of fair skin.

If you look at Mordor and its people...most of them are a rotten shade of gray, black, brown, or some ugly color I don't know. Nobody had _blonde_ hair and _blue _eyes like me. I felt a little out of place for the most part when overlooking Mordor. Nobody has cheerful colors on them. We all wear dark colors. I have only dark blues, dark reds, dark golds and greens and other dark colors in my wardrobe. I wear only black boots and black cloaks and black gloves.

A little odd to see blonde and blue in Mordor?

Yes.

I exited the bath with a towel around my body, shivering slightly from the lack of clothes. My maid, Daerua, rushed to my service, picking out a dress. I didn't bother to stop her. I've always told her to stop fussing over me, but she's won over the years.

This day she picked out a dark gold dress, decorated with intricate patterns of dark blue vines. "This ought to look nice with your hair," She said. "And maybe your eyes as well."

Oh, I must say: Daerua is not an Orc. She is any other normal lady, like me. I was most relieved when Sauron assigned her to her job of assisting me. I guess he must knew that I would feel strange with an Orc assisting me.

In fact, I don't even know if there are female Orcs.

Daerua made me step into the dress, and helpful and kind as she was, she tied the knots at my back tightly. I winced at the sudden constriction of air but did not complain. At least I tried not to. I have complained before, though. But she would scold me and tell me I am a "lady" and "ladies" are meant for to look beautiful. "Beautiful?" I echoed her a few years back. "How can you be beautiful with a waist four inches wide?"

She rolled her eyes. "Beauty means pain, Fay."

I smoothed the velvet fabric down. Once Daerua's back was turned, I could make a mad dash for the door so she wouldn't have to spend another half an hour creating elaborate hairdos that she knew.

My eyes darted to the closed door. If I could get to it...

"I locked the door as well. I have the key." She said, without looking around. "You should really learn how to sit still while I fix your hair."

Daerua turned around, her brown eyes glinting in amusement at my pouting form. "Oh, cheer up. Lord Sauron requests your presence at lunch soon." And then, one look at my slightly damp blonde hair and her face was of disgust.

"Your hair looks terrible."

She pulled out a chair in front of the mirror, beckoning me to sit down. "Come here, dear. You cannot go around Mordor looking like that! Much less Lord Sauron!"

I huffed. "Sure I can."

Daerua shook her head and dragged me over to the chair, plopping me down. "Stay." She instructed me, while she dug around the drawers of various jewerly and make-up items that I never would dare to bother with.

Reaching into the last drawer, she found my comb, lonely from the lack of use. "Aha."

Approaching my hair, she tackled it, but much to her disgust it came with tangles. "Dear child, do you ever comb your hair?" She tsked.

My gaze strayed to the fabric of my dress and I stared at it. "Um," I said awkwardly. "No."

Daerua shook her head, muttering something incoherent that sounded like "Good grief". I watched her in the mirror as her reflection wrestled with hair tangles.

Finally, when she finished combing through it, the blonde hair in the mirror did look better. At least not as messy. "There." She smiled. "Isn't that better?"

"No." I grumbled.

"Oh, please, Fay." She pulled back hair from the side of my head, into a traditional ponytail at the back of my head, letting the rest of my hair fall back over my shoulders. Hair that was to short to be pulled back decided to linger in my vision. I let out a puff of air, watching it fly gently with my breath and to land back on my face.

Daerua smiled at me in the mirror. "There," she said, tucking hair behind my ears. "Now you actually look presentable."

I shrugged. I didn't really care.

"Thank you," I told her warmly and left the room.

Though I hated her fussiness, Daerua served as an excellent mother. Kind and gentle as she was, Daerua cared for nothing but my health. She was no maid to me. She was my "mother".

I entered the halls, striding past Orcs on duty, guarding various doors. They all dipped their heads when they saw me. I returned with a nod.

The Orcs opened the door as I approached the dining hall. Sauron sat there already, a tall man with long black hair falling past his shoulders and cool silvery-gray eyes. He looked up when he saw me.

"My lord." I said and gave an awkward curtsy, cursing the shoes I wore. I'd give anything for boots right now.

Sauron smiled. "Please, sit and eat, child. You have worked hard today."

_Don't I always_?

I did so and began piling roast turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy on my plate. We were silent as we ate - he ate politely, using his fork and knife. Me? I was starving. My breakfast consisted of nothing but some bread as I was hurrying outside to feed the awaiting animals or else they would tear up Mordor for fresh meat. And we would not have Sauron to invite me to eat lunch with him. We would, instead, have a very unhappy Sauron.

Sauron first started the conversation, asking me to report on the animals.

"Perfectly healthy," I said proudly. "We also have a new litter of adorable Warg puppies." Then after afterthought, "They're very cute."

He raised his eyebrows. "And I will be counting on you to train them from being...cute and adorable...to fighters for Isengard and Saruman's defenses." He said, a little hesitant about hearing that they were "cute and adorable" from my mouth.

I sighed and nodded. I didn't really want them to be ferocious, snarling beasts like the mature Wargs. I thought they were good the way they were. No darkness has tainted their hearts just yet. All they've seen was...nothing. They haven't even opened their eyes yet.

Shoveling mashed potatoes in my mouth, Sauron continued. "May I ask you to do one thing for me?"

I grunted through a mouthful of food. He took that as a yes.

"There has been word of...a so-called Fellowship of the Ring." He said, his voice tight. I looked up. Uh-oh, he's not happy about this news he's talking about. "Morgomir has reported to me that some hobbit by the name of Frodo Baggins is carrying my One Ring."

I blinked. Has Morgomir, the Witch-King of Angmar, finally found the One Ring after years and years of searching?

Sauron's eyes became cold. "And apparently there are four other hobbits, by the names of Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrine Took, and Samwise Gamgee, traveling with him. And some unknown man, a Ranger from the North." He told me.

I nodded, and gestured him to keep going.

"And...Morgomir has stabbed Frodo, and weakened as he was, Frodo was taken to Rivendell, under the care of Lord Elrond."

I raised an eyebrow. "Morgomir couldn't capture a weakened hobbit by himself? Well, I'll be..."

"No, he did try, but the Ranger fought him off and then gave Frodo to Lady Arwen of Rivendell...who..." His slender, pale, long fingers curled into a fist as he gripped the goblet tightly. I stared at his hand, hoping it wouldn't break. "Who has escaped my captains and managed to soak them in the river."

I let out a bark of laughter. Morgomir and his men, getting caught up in a river's strong flow? _And _letting an elleth escape from under their noses as well? Now _that _is something worth seeing. I swallowed and stabbed at a piece of cooked venison. "And?" I persisted. "Now what can we do?"

Sauron frowned. "Word has also reached my ears...of the Fellowship of the Ring, as I have told you." His silvery-gray gaze was fixed on my cold blue ones, and he took a sip out of his goblet, which thankfully had not broke.

I cocked my head. "And who are they?"

"Nine men, and one lady."

I raised an eyebrow. "One lady? Nine men?" I let out a chuckle. "Against Mordor's forces?"

He gave me a small grin at my loyalty to him. "Yes. Four hobbits, one wizard, one elf, one dwarf, and two men. And one lady. Named Mary Sue, I have heard."

"Who the bloody hell is Mary Sue?"

"A Mary Sue, I presume, comes from a species called, ironically, Mary-Sue. They would be a person who is equally beautiful and talented and somehow is very perfect in every way or other." He said dully. I blinked, and frowned. "How is that possible? No person is perfect."

"And yet this Mary Sue lady is perfect, they say. Charming, intelligent, and utterly perfect."

I winced at that description. "Ew." I said.

Sauron smiled. "Precisely."

I sipped my drink. "So what are you going to do about it?" I asked. Sauron then gave me the creepy stare. Leaning on the table, he folded his hands together and gave me a penetrating look, locking onto my blue gaze. I tried to stare back at him without blinking.

"I want you to select the finest ten fell beasts you have, and give them to Morgomir and his men."

I shrugged. "Sure, I can do that...except...why ten? There are only nine Ringwraiths, my lord."

He smiled.

And I dreaded those next words.

"You will become one of them."

* * *

><p>Alright, okay, this story maymay not be a little random...hopefully this story will turn out okay and not be tossed into the "Removed Work" section in my profile.

Hope you liked it. Don't forget to review, please! ;D

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	2. Chapter 2

Ugh. So for a big part of Sunday was chopped off from my writing time, because...Hurricane Irene took the joy of it and killed my electricity. Huh. Oh well. Enjoy and review!

~littledragoneyes

**Chapter 2:**

If at all, the fell beasts certainly were being annoying today. Especially when the Witch-Kings are there, and fell beasts aren't particularly happy when they are there. Oh well, they must get used to it later.

"Down, Bane!" I shouted at a snarling fell beast who tried to bite Morgomir. Bane recoiled, sniffing. I had them all selected, only the ten best, bridled and saddled. The other ten weren't as strong and healthy and young as them.

I stepped right up to Bane, staring at those plate-sized dark gold eyes. "You do not bite people's heads off." I scolded him. "Especially the Witch-King of Angmar. You don't want to go to sleep hungry, do you?"

He shook his head, understanding all that I was saying to him.

"Good."

I walked back to the Witch-King of Angmar, who was waiting patiently, observing my animals. "You can have Bane." I told him, thrusting the reins in his hands. "They're very much like a horse. Except they fly. And don't eat anything before flight - Bane likes to fly upside down sometimes." I warned him.

Then, for the other Witch-Kings, I gave them each a fell beast. Ripper, Blackjack, Frostfire, Fang, Tyroth, Scream, Averth, and Rot. That was nine already if you include Bane. The last one was for me. Torn.

I named them all for a reason, too.

Ripper, because he loved to rip his food up into eight hundred pieces before eating them.

Blackjack, because it suited his color nicely. And you couldn't just call a fell beast "Jack". That sounds weird.

Frostfire, because of his frosty attitude.

Fang, because he has particularly sharp teeth.

Tyroth, because he just looked like one.

Scream because...he has deafening screeches when he's angry.

Averth, because he always averted my cold stare whenever he was mischievous and played tricks on me.

Rot, because he loved rotting corpses, and I had to cart rotten food right after the fresh food came along to the fell beasts' pen every time I had to feed them.

Bane, because...he just seemed like a beast who would be called Bane.

And Torn. Because he was the smaller of the fell beasts, and of the litter. Like the runt. He has a torn heart when his older brothers and sisters made fun of him.

Of course, Sauron couldn't afford to have any of his _beloved_ Witch-Kings have the runt of the litter. So I decided to take Torn. Because _I'm nice_, that's why.

After giving them all the reins and telling them how to fly on them properly, I decided to give them all a test run. Just to see how well they fly, and for the leisure of it. I mean, I've flown before. I want to see how funny it would be on _their _first try. Let's see those arrogant, proud neither-dead-nor-living men get bucked right off.

We mounted our new steeds, with Sauron watching from below, tracking my every move. Though I knew I shouldn't be scared of him, I always felt some nervousness when he was outside, watching me with my animals. Like he was observing just _how_ not obedient my pets were.

I kicked Torn lightly on his shoulder, and he leapt into the air, flapping his wings powerfully. Then, I pulled on the reins upwards, so that Torn moved upwards, higher up from the ground. I looked below and saw the nine of them still on the ground, looking up at me, their hoods dark underneath. I snorted.

"What's this?" I taunted them. "The Witch-Kings too scared to fly?" I looked at Sauron, smirking. "You really do have an odd taste of choosing Captains, my lord. First they get beaten by a mere Ranger of the North, then let a she-elf run away from them with a weakened Hobbit, and then let them get run over by a river?"

Suddenly, there was a _whoosh! _of wings, and I found Morgomir higher up than me, on Bane. I raised my eyebrows. "That's an improvement," I remarked, looking up at him. He just stared back down at me, a hood over his head. "But what about the rest of your men?"

There were eight more _whoosh!_es to answer my question.

Nine Ringwraiths hovered above me, seemingly accomplished how to ride their steeds. "You were saying, my lady?" Morgomir asked casually.

I glared at him. "Shut up. I've flown on Torn more than you could ever imagine."

Eh, that was a lie. I sometimes was too tired to fly after work. But I do try. That is, if I can fit in my schedule of riding Wargs, Oliphaunts, giant spiders, training Crebain to spy and send messages, train Cave-trolls to fight, try to feed Watchers without them attacking me, and pestering Sauron if there are more dragon eggs left in Middle-Earth. "No, Fay!" Sauron would shout at me, and irritated, throwing a book at me, which I would barely miss. "Stop bothering me or I'll feed you to Shelob!"

"Ah," I would tease him. "But I know giant spiders better than you. I can make her cuddle with me rather than sting me."

Yes, that was a lie. But I couldn't back down from the Witch-King of Angmar now, could I?

"Really?" Morgomir's voice was sly. "Let's find out then!"

He jerked back on his reins, sending Bane flipping backwards and then forwards, shooting fast. The others watched on as he swooped away gracefully. I rolled my eyes and shot after him.

Spoiled, insolent Witch-Kings. Although they are like my brothers.

I kicked Torn gently, and he speeded away after Bane. The wind blasted in my face, prickling it like little needles. Mordor, on the map, looked awfully small, though in comparison...it's awfully large. On horse, if you travel inside of Mordor, takes a while to get to wherever you need to go. I can't even think about it on foot. But on fell beast...that's a different story.

I let out a low growl as eight more fell beasts shot ahead of me. I scowled. That wasn't supposed to happen.

Torn was easily the smallest, so his wing span wasn't as big and broad, and wasn't something he could be very proud of. Though that was true, Torn was easily the fastest and he could slide between things that were much to small for others to go through.

_That_, my fellow audience, it what he could do the best and be proud of at the same time.

I urged my steed forward, and he did so obediently. I've taught them well. Especially Torn. He picked up speed with a screech. I winced. "Must you do that?" I muttered. Torn chirped happily.

Eight fell beasts flew swiftly ahead of us, and I knew that Torn didn't like that. He never did. He never liked anything ahead of him. He liked to be first. Make note of that aggressive behavior. His wings gave one last powerful flap that thrust both of us forward and he darted between the eight, his small size moving into the small spaces between his litter mates.

Scream let out a screech. Why? He does that when he's angry. I shot a glare at Tainted, the Witch-King. I have nicknames for all of them, because they don't remember their names at the moment. I guess a thousand years does wipe out part of your memory, does it? All except for Morgomir and Khamûl, the second in command under our favorite Witch-King of Angmar. Sauron wouldn't tell me the rest of their names. He only told me the top two. I guess he favors them more? I don't know.

"Scream is yours now, Tainted!" I yelled at the Witch-King, who looked at me. I couldn't tell what his expression was like under that dark hood. I don't want to know. "Not mine. You do anything wrong to make him mad - he screeches at you!" I smiled at the thought of Tainted upsetting Scream and his steed screeching in his face. Ah, good thoughts...

My attention returned to Torn and now Bane, who was far up ahead. Morgomir twisted in his seat to look around at us. I could tell that his expression wouldn've been a gleeful smirk. Good riddance, I'm disgusted that I can't wipe the smirk off his face because he doesn't have one.

Narrowing my eyes in concentration, I pulled Torn off to the side with a pull of the reins, and he obediently did so. One thing that I have learned over the years: males tend to do things...head-on, and females tend to do things strategically.

I like to do things strategically.

Torn let out a screech of impatience as he watched his older litter mates fly away from him. I stroke his leathery neck gently, soothing him. "Strategies," I told him, "Not force."

My mind was spinning. Easily I could try to outrun my friends - but would that work? I obviously needed to put Torn's skills and only advantages to work.

Then it clicked. I kicked Torn lightly and he responded instantly, swooping. Morgomir was heading towards Minas Morgul by the looks of it. Of course, take away my little fell beasts and also my hard work, sweat and blood? I think not...

If I remembered correctly on my previous practice flights with Torn, the wind blew in from the east occasionally. Sometimes they were huge, rapid, powerful gusts of wind, sometimes not. Hopefully they were big today.

I wheeled Torn around towards the wind from the east, half praying that it wouldn't be simple and weak. After all, nobody wants a boasting and smug Morgomir as we eat dinner tonight. Especially if some of the lieutenants and captains from around Mordor come to dinner. I'll never hear the end of it.

Climbing high into the air, I tried to recall where the wind was exactly, and quickly before Morgomir actually traveled the many miles to Minas Morgul. Torn eagerly tried to resist the pulling of the reins that was holding him back from going anywhere he wanted to go.

"Stop it, Torn." I said, hearing the tone of my voice as evident exasperation.

He let out a screech and nosed his muzzle up into the air, upwards.

I looked up. Dark, cloudy storm clouds, accompanied by smoke and ash from Mount Doom. Typical. "You think the wind gust is up there?"

Another screech, indicating a clear "Yes."

Sighing, I decided to cope, just because Torn was...well, he was Torn. I shouldn't forget that the runt of the litter had particularly excellent memory and instincts.

"Lead the way," I told him.

With a happy chirp, which sounded _very_ odd coming from a twenty foot fell beast with razor sharp, long spikes, fangs, and claws, and nearly thirty to forty feet of wings, Torn sped upwards, rocketing.

And then, lo and behold - the wind from the east seemed to be in a fairly good mood today. It was a powerful gust of wind, that I liked very much, and sent both Torn and I propelling forward at a rapid speed. My steed let out a yelp of surprise before he swiftly recovered and shot forward _with _the wind's help.

I grinned. Now we were flying much faster than before, and obviously faster than Morgomir's speed. All thanks to our great wind from the east.

We raced towards nine figures on fell beasts, pretty much unaware of where we were. I smirked, delighted to see what their faces would be like, although they didn't have any. Hilarious.

We were almost to the nine when I saw Fang raise his head, tilted, then looked straight at us. I winced. Fang gave us a toothy smile, his fangs jagged and gleaming. Then he let out a very un-called for screech.

And Torn replied back heartily.

"Torn!" I yelled. "We're supposed to creep up behind them because it's funnier and - oh, never mind."

Nine Witch-Kings had their hooded heads swiveled behind them, and stared at us. Although I was quite annoyed with both Torn and Fang, I could almost sense their expressions to be stunned and confused - how the bloody hell did Fay catch up on us with that runt?

And I would reply, Gentlemen - I just do.

Now with a new challenger with an interestingly high potential racing at a great speed towards them, Morgomir decided that now would be the best time to stop gawking at the newcomer and finish the mock-race. I spotted the Witch-King of Angmar try to make a break for it on Bane, his powerful wing muscles straining to go faster underneath that leathery hide.

Poo for them, I know that Bane can only make sprints because of his bulky size, not long distance flying.

"Quickly now, Torn." I murmured. "Don't let your eldest brother beat you."

He gave me a screech and with a strong flap of his wings, shot forward with his remaining energy as the wind from the east helped move us forward. It was quick and fast, before indeed we did catch up with Bane and Morgomir.

Neck to neck, we were straining to beat each other. We could both see Minas Morgul and the towers looming up in the distance between the high mountains that protected Mordor. Outside of those mountains - I have never been out of Mordor before, but with an exception of Isengard. But my trips to Isengard were rare - I had animals to take care of. And Saruman had that Wormtongue guy that I haven't met before - they ought to be fine alone.

I don't know who won - but Bane and Torn both made it to the finishing line before the others did.

Torn screeched alongside with Bane, both of them panting like dogs. They were probably debating about who made it first, one or the other.

"Don't tell me it." I groaned, knowing what the answer was now, by the looks of it.

"I think it was," The Witch-King of Angmar replied back wearily. "Though excellent tactics - using the wind from the east to help. I would have never thought of it."

I gave him a slight grin before seeing Sauron approaching us from behind.

That man, always appearing in the oddest places. Hell, I don't know how he even got here!

"That was a particularly interesting race." He remarked, his voice cool.

"No kidding?" I muttered under my breath. "Nobody won. It was a tie."

* * *

><p>Okay, so that was a little short...<p>

Don't forget to review!

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	3. Chapter 3

I have not abandoned this story. Luckily. :D

Just was busy. VERY BUSY. Ya know, school starts, there's a bunch of homework overloads just because I was feeling all sort of lazy and relaxed during the summer and then when school comes it's like AHHH!

Mmm. Now I have a feeling that this story will be fairly short. :(

Oh well. :D

But anyways, enjoy and review!

~littledragoneyes

**Chapter 3:**

Today...was my first mission.

Sauron told us to attack Osgiliath to prepare the way for the assault on Minas Tirith.

It was basically my first time out of Mordor. So, as any fourteen-year old would do, I fretted. I fidgeted. I screamed into my pillow. I punched my pillow until it was a limp as a pancake.

Daerua, though, was a fashionista. Looking pretty was her specialty.

When I pulled on a tunic and leggings and my old, worn, muddy boots, and pulled a dark cloak on, not to match the Witch-King's uniform, but because it was warm, Daerua wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Ladies do not dress in men's clothing." She told me instantly.

I raised my eyebrows. "You think I care?"

"I do."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Look, it's comfortable and practical. I can't ride and fight if I'm wearing a decorative gown. I'll look like a clumsy Witch-King. And Sauron will fire me from my job. Literally."

My maid looked slightly surprised. "You fight?" She asked.

I shrugged. "Eh, Morgomir and Sauron taught me archery and sword fighting."

That was a lie. Morgomir and Sauron taught me about one percent of what you could learn about sword fighting, but I was a bit more adept with the bow and arrow. But my main weapon was Torn. Together, mount and rider were a powerful match. Torn seemed to know everything about me and how my mind worked, and I knew the same as well.

Well, damnit. I could still be trudging through Mordor's farms and pens and feeding my animals, but Sauron found a replacement Orc. I just hope that Orc doesn't eat all of the food for the animals. And damnit again, why the bloody hell was there a Mary-Sue? I never even _heard _of a Mary-Sue. I hope she's stupid.

"_Lord _Sauron, Fay. Speak of him as if he were your lord, even though he isn't exactly."

I shrugged.

Daerua sighed. "Well, be careful."

I finished strapping on my arrows and bow, and fingered the hilt of my sword nervously. "I will be."

"Put up your hood."

I blinked, confused, but did so. "Why?"

"The men of Osigiliath will laugh at the absurdness of a lady becoming one of the Witch-Kings. Specifically you."

I frowned. "Is it a problem?"

"They know who you are. Or at least could figure it out. They have heard stories of a lady helping the Dark Lord breed his pets, and could easily piece together that you would be the breeder. The men will think the Dark Lord weak, to have no other good captains in his land to become one of the Witch-Kings. Then Lord Sauron will be not only ridiculed, but thoroughly humiliated."

I hid a grin at that thought. Huh, Sauron being humiliated and ridiculed...I'd like to see that. But on second thought, whenever he got angry, or upset or anything, it wasn't a pleasant sight.

After I finished getting ready, I headed down to the armory to check up on Morgomir.

"You done yet?" I poked my head in. He was pulling on his helmet, which, frankly, made me think he looked twice as stupider than he looked with just a black hood and cloak.

"Now I am." He swept out of the room, and I followed him to mount the fell beasts.

"Why do you have to dress up so funny?" I asked. _Oops_, I thought. _If Daerua were here she would scold me on my poor grammar skills. But she's not here, so who cares?_

"Sauron requested it." was his answer. Dull and boring. I blew some of the strands of hair out of my face, that had fallen out of my bun.

"Why did he request it?" We turned a corner.

"He requested it, probably to inflict fear to our enemies, and to distinguish me as the Witch-King of Angmar. Also, it is part of the uniform."

"So it's only to make people pee in their pants, to put you in the sparkly spotlight and also it's just part of a strict order? That's cheap."

Morgomir turned his head slightly to stare at me.

Then we entered another room, that had an opening at the top. It was giant and cave-like. Fell beasts lined the sides, saddled and bridled, like in a barn with horses.

I side-glanced at the other Witch-Kings, who silently and diligently walked right over to their fell beasts. I frowned slightly. They were all so gloomy and dark. Like they were going to be executed or something. Why was this world so dark? It needs some sparkles.

I decided to show them a thing or two about sparkles. Skipping to Torn, I said loudly and happily, "Hiya Torn! How're ya doin'?"

The others threw me strange glances, staring at me.

I hid a smirk.

"We're going out to Osgiliath today, Torn!"

I heard Sauron enter through another door.

"Isn't that fun?" Without any of the stable boys - er, stable Orcs - help, I climbed up Torn and sat down on him, patting him gently on his leathery hide.

Torn let out a screech in his agreement. His siblings also threw him strange glances and stared at him.

"The others are coming! And so are your siblings! Aren't you just a cute little fell beast?" I bent over, hugging Torn's neck, squeezing. Torn gave me some sort of a happy giggle, if it was one, only in fell-beast tone.

I could hear Morgomir whisper to Sauron, "Are you sure it was a good idea to let her come?"

"Sure is, Morgomir!" I shouted, my voice echoing loudly. "I can't wait to go!"

Morgomir winced in slightly embarrassment, and returned to mounting Bane.

Sauron told us, "Osgiliath you shall burn. You shall destroy it. You shall kill all the men in there, and let nothing live in it." Then he turned to Morgomir, "You will see to it properly that it will not be in victory."

Then all ten of us somehow shot through the top of the roof, Morgomir, obviously first, and I was last, mainly because I was the youngest, smallest and the lowest of rank.

I rolled my eyes as Morgomir perched Bane on top of the gate, screeching like he was going to die. "Show-off," I muttered. "Just because you're the leader of us all doesn't mean that you'll last the longest."

A huge army of Orcs began to march out of Minas Morgul, along the well-worn path. I settled Torn down besides Bane, who looked at his little brother.

"I'm nervous." I said quietly to him.

He didn't answer.

"I'm nervous." I said louder.

He still didn't answer.

"I'm nervous." I said even louder.

"Will you be quiet?" He snapped. "You could wake up all of Middle-Earth with that loud voice of yours!"

I snorted. "What, is it part of the rules that I missed that Witch-Kings are supposed to be silent and all that?"

He kept looking straight ahead.

"Afraid I'll ruin your reputations?" I taunted him.

Just as I was about to tease him some more, something caught my eye. Three tiny figures, human form, was climbing up the side of a mountain, on a steep staircase. I squinted and stared, trying to figure out what it was. It was hard to find them, but if one looked extremely close, you could see that rocks do not move like humans climbing.

"Hey," I began. "Do you see - "

"We will move forward." Morgomir ignored me completely, calling to the Witch-Kings.

He moved Bane forward, and the fell beast rose into the air, followed by the others. "Hey!" I yelled. "You're supposed to listen to me! I'm part of your group too!"

I had no choice but to follow, heading upwards.

But when I looked back down, I still swear I see three small figures climbing that steep staircase. Cirith Ungol.

That led straight to Shelob.

* * *

><p>Morning settled over a very ruined Osgiliath.<p>

I did what I was told, sweeping men off their feet. I shot down men. Torn took the joy and ate one of them for breakfast.

The men began to run for Minas Tirith when they realized that Osgiliath was already in ruins and there was no chance of them winning.

Although no matter hard they tried to run, they were stopped by us Witch-Kings.

The fell beasts automatically dived for them, tossing the men and horses through the air and letting them crash into other riders. I did my fair share, as did the others.

Really, it wasn't that bad. But only that Torn was shifted off balance when Fang's powerful wing strokes blew him aside because he was just that small, and my right foot was loosened from the stirrup.

"Shit." I swore when I realized that my foot was dangerously going to let me slip.

Torn obviously didn't realize and kept diving and killing men.

"Torn!" I shouted, but he still was too giddy about his new job. "Stop, let me fix - "

I yelped as Torn lunged forward, loosening my foot furthermore. My heart beat loudly. I swore all of Middle-Earth could've heard it if they really wanted to.

"Torn!" I shouted again.

From the distance, I could see a white horse galloping up from Minas Tirith. Inside, I was wondering, _Why would Minas Tirith bring just one rider to help...gee, feel sort of bad for them..._

Torn did another lunge, and this time my foot completely was out of the stirrup.

Feeling panic overwhelm me, I gripped the reins as hard as I could. I could easily fall off Torn if he performed on of his super-awesome tricks of his just to show-off to his older siblings, but now wasn't the correct time to do so. I could die if I fell!

Worst, I could feel my other foot begin to slip as well.

"TORN!" I hollered. "STOP THIS INSTA - "

I never got to finish my sentence.

Because I was falling.

Falling.

Falling...

Falling...

Some bright light had hit the fell beasts, and they had retreated away, banking sharply to the left, fleeing to Mordor. Obviously, fell beasts hated bright light. It wasn't new to me, because I had raised them.

And I was currently screaming my head off.

I can tell you, falling is not one of my favorite pastimes, and it isn't one right now as well.

Yet that was what I was doing.

I lost my grip on Torn.

And now I'm falling.

Well, isn't this just a happy world?

Squeezing my eyes shut, I knew I was going to die. Knew it, knew it, knew it, knew it, knew it, knew it, knew it, knew it, knew it...

Then I hit something. Expecting something hard, like the ground, was obvious, but I hit something not as hard. Probably a horse or something. But that didn't matter.

My eyes were already going dark.

* * *

><p>Morgomir sat on top of a tower in Osgiliath, surveying the scene. He had not seen Fay yet, and he was beginning to worry. He was her responsiblity, Sauron had told him. If he lost her, then it was his fault.<p>

He pushed the little obnoxious fourteen-year old to the back of his mind. No matter, she would show up sometime.

"Send forth all legions. Do not stop the attack until the city is taken. Slay them all." He ordered to Gothmog.

"What of the wizard?" The Orc asked.

It was not hard to predict what his answer would be. "I will break him."

The two looked on at both Osgiliath and Minas Tirith, ready to take it down, no matter how long it would take.

* * *

><p>Eek! This chapter's too short as well...oh well, I just think I need to stop there.<p>

Like a good cliffhanger, eh? I love 'em.

Yeah, well, anyways!

Don't forget to review! :D And enjoy a free brownie!

Cheers,

littledragoneyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

*gasp*

SO DID FAY SURVIVE THAT HORRIBLE FALL?

Read on to find out.

Enjoy and review! :D

~littledragoneyes

**Chapter 4:**

A guard on the Citadel scanned the horizon in the direction of the ruined Osgiliath for remaining Orcs and those horrible monsters from Mordor. That attack was brutal, frightening and sudden. Not many survived, and he feared for the worst.

They had to retreat, because the army from Mordor was too much for them to handle. Now he wondered what was going to happen to the beautiful Minas Tirith, since they were the next target.

But then he spotted something moving. His eyes weren't as keen as an elf would be, but he was not blind to all that moved. Something, or someone, was still alive out there. It could have been a body that rolled over.

He grabbed the telescope hanging on his belt, and peered through it anxiously. He was right. It was a person, a Mortal, not an Orc, who laid sprawled on a pile of broken and dead bodies. Except that person still had life.

The guard alerted and told some of his friends, and together they rode out on horses, to that fallen body.

When they arrived there, though, they were very alarmed at what they saw.

_Very _alarmed.

* * *

><p>I rolled over and groaned, my side feeling horrible and my body was sore.<p>

The light was rather strong.

_Is this heaven or something?_ I thought to myself. _No, wait, it must be the Hall of Mandos, where all Men go. And Elves too. Maybe I'll meet an Elf? I've always wanted to...but didn't Daerua say that the Hall of Mandos was a dark place? Why was there so much light..._

I opened my eyes, but regretted it. I squinted, seeing a figure peering over me.

"She's awake." Somebody said dully. It was a female voice.

"Hush! Don't frighten her!"

By now my eyes were clear and I could see right. I was looking up at three maids, human. I frowned. I don't remembering seeing any other maids besides Daerua that were human...unless...

"Who are you?" I demanded immediately. "Why am I not dead?"

They blinked, a little startled to hear me so loud. That was me. A loud-mouth. It's great being loud.

"Child, what is your name?" One of them asked.

I hesitated. This place definitely was not Mordor. Most knew my name, so if this place wasn't Mordor, I shouldn't say my real name, or else something may happen. "Erm...Syrene." I said automatically, thinking of the first name I could think of. Which was, ironically, my mother's name.

She stared at me. Something was definitely stirring in her mind. I fidgeted.

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen."

The three maids looked at each other, shocked. "And pray tell us, Lady Syrene, why were you on the Pelennor Fields?"

I swallowed. "I'm not dead?" I asked.

One of the maids looked at me strangely. "Are you alright, dear?"

I blinked. "Yes, I am. But...I thought I died out there."

"You almost did," another said. "But why were you fighting out there? Why were you fighting? We found weapons on your body."

Then it hit me. I remembered my mission. Torn. Morgomir. Sauron. Attacking Osgiliath. I fell off...

Oh, shit. I'm in Minas Tirith...

I had to immediately feign innocence and lie as well as I could. Heart pounding rapidly, I said, "Um," I scratched my head, trying to look confused. "I really don't remember how I got there...sorry."

"That's quite alright. You must've hit your head, dear." One of them said. "But silly me, I forgot to introduce myself! I am Ioreth, of the Houses of Healing. This is Evala and Mayli, my apprentices. A guard from the Citadel spotted you and brought you in. I saw you and you were a mess! But I think you are fine now."

_That's nice of them..._I thought. Minas Tirith people weren't that bad as Sauron depicted them as. So why did he say all of Middle-Earth were mean and all that?

"How long was I out?" I asked.

"A few hours. It is nearly supper time. You had a broken arm, a few broken ribs, some mighty nasty cuts and wounds, but your two feet seem quiet alright and still intact. But it's a pure miracle you survived, Lady Syrene. And the Lord Faramir wants to speak with you now." Ioreth told me.

They stepped away, and a tall man entered the room. He light golden-brown hair, and gray eyes and he looked to be a nice man. But from Sauron I heard that he was the Steward's son, so I had to keep my distance and be wary of him.

But a thought entered my mind, _But I can be a spy for Sauron! This is so much fun...I get to spy! I can tell him what they're planning to do next...and oh, I'm happy today._

"Good evening, my lady." He bowed low to me, just to be polite. "Your name is..."

"Syrene."

He smiled and sat down on a seat next to my bed. "Your injuries were quite intense, I must say." He said.

I returned a grin. "Yes, they were, my lord."

"Please," He waved his hand. "Call me Faramir."

"Faramir..." I tested out his name. Eh, it didn't sound half bad. Gothmog was a horrible name.

"Who is your mother and father, if I may ask?" He asked me.

I made up some names. "Feradyne and Anson." I replied.

He nodded. "What city do you come from?"

I tried not to hesitate. "Rohan." I blurted out, remembering Saruman fuming about when he was doing some war in Helm's Deep.

Faramir looked at me strangely. "Why have you come from Rohan?"

"I seek help." I said the first thing that come from my mind. _Oh, shit, that wasn't a good answer..._

"What for? Is Rohan in trouble?"

"Well, yes." I said, choosing my words carefully. "We...have been attacked several times."

Truth be told, I regret not paying attention to Sauron when he was telling me the current events. I pay too much attention to my food.

"You have been? Is that why Rohan has not come to Gondor's aid?"

I tried not to let out a sigh of relief. So maybe I did say something good. "Yes, Faramir. We are sorry."

He nodded. "It is understood. And you have just been mixed up in the horrible attack from Osgiliath while trying to arrive here?"

I inwardly winced at the words, 'horrible attack'. Mind you, it wasn't that bad. Hey, I worked hard! Geez, I'm insulted.

"Yes." I said.

"Well, then I will report it to my father." Faramir got up, and then left my room. "You best get some rest." He told me.

I watched him leave, and then flopped back on my pillow. That was definitely a close one. Lying was not my specialty. I might have blown it, I might have not. I just hope that nothing is suspicious.

Ioreth came back into the room, without the maids. "Are you feeling well?" She asked.

"When can I walk again?" I complained almost immediately. I shut my mouth instantly, remembering that she was not Daerua and strangers should be respected, especially Ioreth. She was kind to me.

She laughed, though, not insulted. "Since your legs are fine, you can get up, but do not hurt yourself or do anything to hurt yourself furthermore!" Ioreth's eyes twinkled, her old face wrinkling with her smile. I liked her a lot now. Especially that she allowed me to walk.

"I will help you dress, since you probably cannot do it with your hand and arms like that."

Ioreth did help me, like how Daerua would help me tie the strings in the back where I couldn't reach. It was a nice green dress that was silky and soft. But it wasn't a dark color like the clothes back in Mordor that I wore. It was a lighter color, and I was a bit cautious about wearing it, but to keep myself safe, I wore it without hesitation.

"Thank you." I told her, and then slipped out of the room.

My arm was bandaged, and my side was also bandaged, making me a bit more clumsy that I should be. I hope it was healing fast, so then I could ride back to Mordor and report as much as I could.

Wandering around, I decided it would be best to see as much as I could before I left. And upon wandering into a long hall that was colored black, white and silver with tall columns, I recognized Faramir speaking with another man, an older one, who was sitting at a table, eating. I frowned. I think that one would be the Steward of Gondor, because he was sitting on the throne. He was an old man, but looked to be stubborn.

There was also another person, who was very short and looked to be like a small child, but wearing Gondorian armor. I raised my eyebrows. They use children to fight to now? I feel very bad for Gondor now.

"I do not think we should so lightly abandon the outer defenses," The older man said. I tuned in closely, in case if it were important information. "Defenses that your brother long held intact."

"What would you have me do?" Faramir asked.

"I will not yield the river and Pelennor unfought. Osgiliath must be retaken." The older man said. Now I remembered his name was Denethor. _Ha, take that, Daerua! I actually do pay attention to my studies._

"My lord, Osgiliath is overrun."

"Much must be risked in war. Is there a Captain here who still has the courage to do his lord's will?" Denethor asked coldly.

_Ouch,_ I thought. _That's a little rough._

"You wish now that our places had been exchanged. That I had died and Boromir had lived." Faramir said quietly, his voice sounding sorrowful, but Denethor seemed to not detect it.

"Yes. I wish that." Denethor replied.

I watched them, feeling slightly sad for them. Especially Faramir. How could any father be so...mean?

"Since you are robbed of Boromir, I will do what I can in his stead."

Then I really did feel bad for them. Faramir, his voice tight, and a cloud of misery seeming to hang over his shoulders, he walked away, but then turned back. "If I should return, think better of me, father."

Denethor looked at his younger son coldly, as if he were rudely disturbed from sipping his wine. "That will depend on the manner of your return."

Biting his lip, Faramir walked slowly away from his father.

I frowned at Denethor. Some father. Bad excuse for a Steward, mind you.

I slipped away quietly, having been practicing for a while back in home, when Sauron was holding councils and I wanted to listen but wasn't allowed to. You had to move fast, in the shadows, but keep yourself silent.

Same here. I quickly went through the bigger doors, following Faramir. I had to talk to him.

I spotted him walking through a crowd, and tried to chase after him without giving myself pangs of pain from my ribs and arm. Finally, I did, but after a few minutes.

"Faramir!" I called. He turned, hearing his name. He raised his eyebrows. "Lady Syrene? What are you doing here out of the Houses of Healing?"

"Um, Ioreth said it was okay for me to leave." I told him.

He pushed that thought away and nodded. "What do you need?"

I thought for a bit to say what I wanted to speak. "I...I saw the way your father treated you, just five minutes ago." I said quietly, and feeling awkward too.

Faramir didn't show any expressions of sadness, but he did sound a little bit more miserable. Whoops. "Did you? I hope he didn't make a bad impression on you." He said flatly, and resumed walking.

"Well...I guess he was a bit too harsh and rough on you." I said.

"Really?"

"Yes. I don't think he should treat you like that just because of your...your brother. And that you couldn't do anything about Osgiliath." I told him.

He nodded. "You think so?" He sounded like he didn't believe me, like everybody else had said it just to cheer him up. Like those clouds of misery wouldn't disappear until he died or something, no matter what everybody said.

"Really!" I protested. "I mean it. There's no reason why he should do that to you."

We kept walking in an airy sense of quietness, until Faramir spoke up, "Would you like me to tell you about Osgiliath, then? Perhaps you could leave to Rohan once my father figures out a way to help you and then tell the rest of your people about Osgiliath, so the memory of that place lives on. Before I leave on my father's orders, that is."

We stopped at a balcony, where other guards roamed the place.

Osgiliath really did look like it died. It was clearly ruined and crumbled, and you could see bits of smoke drifting lazily into the air. I could almost sense that Gothmog was there, ready to crush Minas Tirith.

As I overlooked Mordor, I was surprised to see how dark the clouds were over there compared to Minas Tirith. In Gondor, the skies were a fair blue, something that I hadn't seen much before. The clouds were a clean white, not a murky shadow.

"Osgiliath is being overrun by monsters." He said almost instantly, just by gazing at the place.

I nodded, sort of agreeing. What had we done to Osgiliath? I felt a bit of remorse and guilt, and a sick feeling in my stomach. He turned to me. "Sometimes I fear for Middle-Earth's fate. What will happen when the elves all disappear, and the strong allies we had will vanish from this world? What will happen if the Dark Lord does take over Middle-Earth? Will we see darkness and despair? Will we hear only about death and smell the rotten corpses of people dying? What will happen?"

I said quietly, just feeling like defending my foster father, "Maybe Sauron doesn't mean it that way. Maybe he just wants to help us."

"Help?" Faramir snorted. "You call this helping?"

He swept a hand to the distance. "Our men are vanishing, dying at Orcs and Uruk-hai's hands. All at his command. That is not helping."

I bit my lip and glared hard at a mountain.

"Innocent people are dying. The Dark Lord, may, though, be meaning to help us, but is this the best way to tell us? Is this the best way to try to tell us that he wants to take control over all Middle-Earth?" Faramir told me.

"If he truly wants to help us, why does he help us by killing off so many?"

_Yeah,_ I thought quietly. _Why does he exactly want to help us if he made us kill so many people?_ I remembered when I was on my first mission, watching and letting Torn kill as many as he liked, eating them even.

I didn't even think twice about it...

But now I do, and it made my stomach sick. I felt like throwing up. Why had I done? I just killed...people! Without even realizing it, just because it was a stupid mission and I was excited for it. Sauron, indeed, was a good foster father and raised me with his beliefs.

But did he tell me that others were suffering because of his "help"?

No.

Did he tell me the truth about the War of the Ring?

No.

Did he tell me that he was trying to help, but was only killing people because he wanted to dominate?

No.

Did he lie to me, say that it was only for the best, that he wanted to take Middle-Earth because he supposedly believed the others were ruling it wrong, and when the others didn't listen he decided to just _kill _them all until they gave in?

Yes.

And then he made me and my ancestors breed those animals for him. Help him create wacky inventions for him.

Just so he could do whatever his selfish needs demanded to have.

And he _dared_ lie to me.

But on the other hand...he did help me. He gave me shelter, food and family. He raised me up with the same devoting love as a mother and the same gentle hand of a father. He was a good person, inside. But to the others...no.

He did sometimes, laugh and talk with me. He did, sometimes, read me stories when I was younger, and help me with my studies behind Daerua's back. He did raise me up like any other father would.

Yet he did all this.

Now I was very confused.

"I must go now." Faramir said, breaking my thoughts. "Would you like to stand by the streets with the rest of the women and children? I would like to have a friend to see, one last time."

I instantly turned to him. "Look, Faramir. I really don't think you should go."

"Why is that?"

"Just because your father told you to. Look, it's not - don't do it. Your father's gone crazy. He's not thinking right. You could die!"

"Exactly my point why you should stand by in the streets. I would like to see a friend when I go."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Don't be stupid!" I snapped. "You won't survive!"

He shrugged, and walked away. "Faramir!" I said, exasperated, but he was already gone.

Gone.

Perhaps from life as well.

* * *

><p>Yay, I finished another chapter really fast again! So happy. :D<p>

Just type really fast. Like really fast. Write during lunch, on the bus, in between classes, keep thinking during classes...and yeah, you're done! Strange technique, works pretty well. Or at least jot down notes.

Yeah, but anyways...please review! ;D

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	5. Chapter 5

Hi all! Hope you like this chapter...

But now I feel like this story's too short! Oh well...try to figure out how to make it longer. :D

Enjoy, plus review!

~littledragoneyes

**Chapter 5:**

Citizens looked on sadly as Faramir led the group of men on to take back Osgiliath, though the outcome was definitely not going to be good. Some of the women gently tossed flowers to their feet, the city quiet.

As Faramir was nearing, an old man carrying a white staff pushed through the crowd, saying, "Faramir, Faramir! Your father's will is turned to madness. Do not throw away your life so rashly."

"Where does my allegiance lie if not here?" Faramir asked quietly. He continued on. "This is the city of the Men of Númenor. I will gladly give my life to defend her beauty, her memory, her wisdom."

"Your father loves you, Faramir." The old man followed him, and then stopped. "He will remember it before the end."

Faramir passed me, and I gave him a weak smile, hoping that maybe it would support his spirits. "Good luck." I whispered only for him to know. He returned with a knowing gaze.

Instantly after I raced up to a balcony, a high one, away from the crowd that gathered around the lower balconies. I wanted to see what happened, and know if he was alright or not.

The cavalry formed a line facing Osgiliath. It was a might thin and small one, compared to Mordor. Only a few lines, and that was it. I worried, now. Were they going to be alright?

In Osgiliath, orcs were probably readying themselves for the charge, and...then the charge began.

Racing forward to meet their doom.

I bit my lip. I knew how Gothmog would do it. He told me all about it, boasting and bragging, that ugly, mutated brute. He was the meanest and most brutal orc that I've met, and I know many. Brutally, cruelly and wouldn't dare to stop until finished.

I could almost hear the creak of wood as every bow was bent. Gothmog's favorite strategy. Shoot, kill, then take out swords, stab, slash, swipe and then kill. And then laugh. I still remember what he told me.

Then they fired the arrows, and I looked away in horror and disgust, but I knew that many, many went down.

A bell tolled somewhere in the city, and Gondor was quiet. Across the river bridge in Osgiliath, trolls were pushing siege towers towards Minas Tirith. I leaned against the wall, feeling extremely sick. What had I done? I helped create those...towers with my father with Saruman. I trained those specific trolls to help fight. I trained those fell beasts to attack and kill. I trained all of those things, created all of those things, and look at what they're doing right now.

Shoulders slumped, I could feel despair rising in the city and in me as well. Was there anything I could do to help...?

Maybe there was.

* * *

><p>In my room, I paced back and forth, half-staring at my arm, hoping it would heal. I flopped onto the bed and glared at it. "C'mon, go faster!" I hurried it.<p>

It didn't go faster, though.

Why couldn't things heal faster? Damn, why wasn't I a stupid elf? They healed fast.

Outside, a large army of Orcs was approaching Minas Tirith, fast. As trolls pushed those siege towers forward, drums were pounded loudly. It was a typical sound for me, because I hear it everyday back in Mordor, but a sound of dread for others.

I paced near the windows, and subconsciously glanced out the window, and saw a horse dragging a body towards the gate. I raised my eyebrows. Some horse, smart enough to walk straight back.

But I took a second glance and did a double take on who was being dragged by the stirrup on the ground.

I raced downstairs, and into the courtyard, as fast as I could without tripping down the stairs over the hem of my gown.

Irolas, an officer of Gondor, approached behind me.

Denethor ran out to Faramir, who was lying on a stretcher, motionless and pale. My stomach gave me gut-wrenching feel, and I felt sick. The soldiers set the stretcher down near the white tree.

"Faramir? Say not that he has fallen." Denethor pleaded as he knelt besides his son.

"They were outnumbered. None survived." Irolas said apologetically.

My eyes widened._None survived? Say what?_

"My sons are spent." Denethor was close to crying. He stepped away from his son, and the same little man I saw earlier when Denethor was treating Faramir harshly knelt by the Steward's son.

"My line has ended!" Denethor cried. He was definitely going hysterical.

"He's alive!" The little person said loudly, after examining him. My eyes lit up. Really?

Yet Denethor didn't hear him. "The house of Stewards has failed!"

"He needs medicine my lord!"

I sighed, and walked towards Faramir and the little man. Hopefully I remembered a thing or two from what Daerua had taught me about identifying dead or alive bodies.

"My line has ended!" Denethor kept saying over and over again.

"Here." I said quietly, kneeling besides him, and placed a hand gently over Faramir's nose and mouth, feeling carefully for signs of breath, and then checked for a pulse on his neck. There was, actually, a very faint heartbeat, to my fingertips and relief. Then I kept going. It did seem that he was alive.

"Faramir's still alive!" I called over my shoulder.

Did he listen?

Nah, why not?

Somehow Denethor had wandered towards the edge of the courtyard, and looked down. And saw the massive orc army heading straight for Minas Tirith. Fear instantly replaced the look of grief on his face.

"My lord!" The little man besides me called.

Then I heard crashing sounds, the sounds of rock hitting rock. I winced, and closed my eyes. They already started to use the catapults. I remember making those too.

_Damn._

"Abandon your posts! Flee! Flee for you lives!" Denethor suddenly shouted.

The soldiers looked uneasily at each other. I stared at him. What was he thinking?

But suddenly, faster than I could see, the same old man with the white staff appeared besides him, annoyance written all over his face. He whacked Denethor over the head, knocking him out, before giving the command, "Prepare for battle."

I grinned. I kinda like that guy.

* * *

><p>So now I wasn't allowed to fight. That's just crap. Instead, I lay on my bed, waiting for the war to be over. But at least my gown was off and I was wearing familiar tunic, leggings and boots.<p>

Actually, I didn't care anymore. I already found my bow and arrows and my sword in the weaponry, clean and polished. How very nice of them. And they were by my side. So if Orcs came, I could just fight them. Who cares?

"Pull them in! To the wall! Defend the wall! Return to your posts!" Gandalf, that old man with the white staff, was shouting orders. I could hear him from up here.

Oh, how I wished to be fighting. I peered out the window, pulling back the shade, and saw destruction.

Lots of lots of lots of lots of destruction.

I was feeling guilt all over me. Part of this was my fault. Maybe if I paid attention to the outside world a bit more, tried to understand Sauron when I was sneaking into his councils a bit more, maybe I wouldn't have made those things or bred those beasts.

I could feel the vibrations as rocks hit rocks of the city, dangerously killing people and destroying parts of buildings. Thankfully mine was higher up, so I guess I was okay for now.

For now.

But something drew my attention.

A familiar screech.

A Nazgul shriek!

No other thing makes a sound like that! I bolted out of my room, taking my bow and arrow and sword and strapping it on quickly. My arm was fine, I didn't care about it, even though it was still broken, but slung in a strap.

Women, men and children screamed as fell beasts swooped down low over them, frantically trying to find a hiding spot that wouldn't be destroyed or was already destroyed. I nearly tripped on a stone in my way.

"OI!" I shouted, waving my arms. I recognized that fell beast to be Averth. "AVERTH! DOWN HERE!"

They didn't hear me.

Oh well.

Cursing, I ran to a wall, not exactly be aware of my surroundings, but almost immediately backed away when I saw a siege tower about to lower the plank and let the orcs in. I frowned, and tried to think of a way to take them down. Didn't my father always tell me to make them so that they could be strong, but always have a weak point? Because everything has a weak point.

But shit, I don't remember what it was!

Too late, the orcs surged towards me. I held my sword at ready, and shouted, "I AM FAY EVARGENT, YOU STUPID USELESS - "

Yeah, that really worked.

They didn't hear me, because they were that stupid. I kept cursing because of my arm and the constant stabs of pain. Fighting with one arm was definitely a disadvantage, and I pulled away into a safe corner, sure that no Orcs bother to check the very inside of a closet.

I took a shaky breath. I couldn't fight with a broken arm. It had to heal. Like, right now. Or else I had to take it off. But I didn't want to.

I closed my eyes and swallowed several times. I could hear the orcs chanting, "Grond! Grond! Grond! Grond! Grond! Grond!" over and over again. They had taken out the wolf's head. Damnit.

Yet I don't know how long I stayed in that closet, trying to get ready. It must've been an hour, because night had fallen. I wanted to make sure that the Orcs wouldn't be around to see me. No need to capture Fay now, back to Mordor.

No way in hell am I going back to Mordor.

I stepped out. I needed Torn. Right now, or else.

I wandered around, more of pacing back and forth, thinking of a way to attract any fell beast. They were my weapon.

That is, I was thinking until I heard that little man's voice. Peregrin Took, Pippin for short.

He was calling for Gandalf.

That meant that something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Wasn't it always?

"Gandalf, Gandalf!" I heard his worried shout. "Gandalf!"

Rushing into the scene, I searched for Pippin.

"Pippin!" I yelled. We had talked to each other, and I learned that he was a hobbit. Now I want to visit the Shire. "Pippin!"

I couldn't find that short, little hobbit! Cursing, I wondered why they had to be so small. It made it harder to find, and I was constantly searching for short people now. There were lots of short people, considering that poor little children were crying for their mothers, lost in the busy streets.

"Pippin!" I shouted.

Then I found him.

"Pippin!" I yelled again over the noise. He looked around, and saw me. "Syrene!" He yelled back, and pushed through the crowd.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded. "You're supposed to be with the women and children!"

"Well, I'm not a full-grown women, and I'm not a child, Pippin. I don't…" I trailed off, not wanting to say too much. "You looking for Gandalf?"

"Yes! Have you seen him?" Pippin was desperate.

"No, but I'm looking for him too. You go that way – " I pointed to my left, "And I'll go that way." I pointed to the right. "Got it?"

"Yes, Syrene, but Denethor has gone insane!" Pippin spoke quickly. "He's going to burn Faramir!"

I gaped at him, my face aghast and appalled at the news. "_What_?" I exclaimed. "Why?"

"I told you, he's gone mad! He's lost all of his wits!"

_However much wits he has left, _I thought.

"I told him!" I groaned, smacking my forehead. "I _told _Faramir not to go out. I _told _him not to fight. I _told _him not to listen to his father. I even told him that his father's a nuthead! And does he listen? No!"

"Listen – " I took Pippin's shoulder. "Go find Gandalf. I'll get Faramir out of there, safe."

Pippin didn't think it would work. "But Denethor - he won't let you!"

I shrugged. "So what? I'll kick his butt half-way across Minas Tirith."

"He told me to leave! He got rid of me as a Guard of the Citadel." Pippin told me. "And he locked the door."

I began running away, just because of the time that was ticking fast. I was wasting time just talking to him. "So what?" I called over my shoulder. "I'll bust his door down. I'll ram it 'til it breaks open. I can do that."

Pippin's pale face quirked into a grin for a split second before he disappeared as I turned the corner. With no time to lose, I kept running and running until I reached the courtyard, now abandoned.

The doors were locked, though, and I cursed when I tried to pull them open. "Open up!" I shouted, pounding on the heavy metal doors that were chained with a bare fist. "Denethor, you are such an idiot! Don't burn your son alive, or I'll kick your ass all the way to Mount Doom by myself!"

"Fay?"

I whirled around, and gasped. A fell beast and rider hovered midair, illuminated by the sun rising in the east. I let out a squeak of fear.

Morgomir rode on Bane, his head slightly cocked. He looked fairly surprised to see me.

"Morgomir!" I breathed.

"Fay, what are you doing here?" He demanded. Bane moved forward, landing. I yelped.

He held down a gloved hand to me, beckoning me to leap on so he could take me back to the safety of Mordor.

So he could take me back to the safety of Mordor.

Is that happening?

Nuh-uh.

When I didn't take his hand, Morgomir looked at me strangely. "Fay, come on! Lord Sauron is worried for you! He wants you home!"

I stared up at him, feeling anger boil up inside of me, but it wasn't bubbling out. It was more of a calm fury, but it was cold and icy and less explosive. I shook my head. "No." I said firmly.

"What?"

"You heard me. No."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means what it means, stupid!" I retorted, getting impatient. "No, I'm not going home. No, I don't like you anymore. But yes, everyone's been lying to me. Yes, you said that Mordor was great while everyone else suffered. And yes, you're an idiot and Sauron's a jackass. All in which means n-o, NO!"

Shock flitted across his dark face, but was replaced by a look of understanding. Cold understanding. Immediately he shot his hand out faster than I could blink and grabbed me by my shoulder, hard.

"Ow!" I yelped. "Hands off, twerp!"

I struggled. But the harder I struggled, the tighter his grip became, and I was wondering if my collarbone and shoulder was going to break under the sheer force his hands were putting n me. I just had to give in under my reluctance, and I sat down.

"What are you doing?" I grumbled.

"Taking you back to Mordor. The Dark Lord should be interested in this new news."

"Holy shit, what?" I began to panic. I did begin to struggle, even though it was useless. Bane lifted up into the air, and dived. "LET GO OF ME YOU DAMN PIECE OF SHIT!"

And then I began to use the best swears and curses I knew, anything to alert attention. When nobody came to my rescue, I just decided to scream. When that didn't work, the only other thing I had within my grasp was to control Bane.

After all, Bane was more accustomed to my flying rather than Morgomir's. I've raised him. Morgomir didn't. I taught Bane all the awesome tricks. Morgomir didn't.

"Did you eat anything before the ride?" I asked the Witch-King of Angmar.

A/N: I know that Witch-Kings don't eat anything, but let's pretend they do. Just like how Sauron isn't portrayed as a giant eye (although he is) and you usually see Sauron as a human figure, just pretend that Witch-Kings are also a human figure, but…yeah. Just that. :D

He said uncertainly, "Yes. Why ask?"

"Because." I said smugly, smirking. "I told you not to."

I shot my hands out, taking the reins out of his hand and roughly pulled the reins to my left. Bane veered left sharply, and turned upside down, flapping hard.

I grinned.

"Didn't I tell you not to eat anything before flight? Bane likes to fly upside down!" I shouted.

"FAY!" He shouted. He sounded sick. Just what I needed. "TURN HIM RIGHT SIDE UP RIGHT NOW!"

"YEP!" I shouted back, and turned him up the right side, but then flipped him over again.

"I WILL REPORT THIS TO LORD SAURON!" He screamed.

"YOU DO THAT!" I screamed back.

Bane seemed to spiral off-course, and growing weary of having to fly upside down to my delight, and under the command of Morgomir having to fly the right way, he landed on a part of the wall in Minas Tirith.

I whooped. I couldn't wait to interrogate Pippin or Gandalf to ask what I just did looked like!

But a brilliant, pearly white horse rounded the corner, and on it, mounted Gandalf and Pippin, and fear was in their eyes, with some kind of panic.

Bane immediately reared up, snarling and hissing and flapping his wings.

"Go back to the abyss!" Gandalf shouted, holding up his white staff in defense. "Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your master!"

I looked away, and ducked, not wanting them to see me and recognize me. That would be extremely bad.

But Morgomir had finally felt better and less dizzy. "Do you not know death when you see it, old man?" He threatened.

I was about to shout, "Hey! Gandalf's not that old!"

Then Morgomir let out a horrible scream, and I flinched visibly. Pippin cried out in terror, hugging Gandalf around the middle in fear.

Then he drew his sword, flaming. I peered up. Why must he carry that around? One day he'll catch his clothes on fire and see how much he'll boast all day long, strutting in that petty uniform in his, shouting out orders and bossing others around.

Startled, Gandalf's staff shattered, and he fell from his horse.

I raised my eyebrows. That was weird.

"This is my hour."

Morgomir has _got _to teach me that. Just get to whip out your sword towards the Witch-King and watch him stumble and trip on his butt. That would be worth a watch.

The Witch-King approached Gandalf. I was helpless. I wanted to stop Morgomir, but I didn't want to give myself away. Pippin drew his sword towards him. "Gandalf!" He yelled in alarm.

The old wizard looked up, determined. Bane let out a loud roar, and the little hobbit froze in fear. As Shadowfax, that beautiful white horse, finally lost his patience and reared towards Bane, holding it at bay for a moment, the Witch-King taunted Gandalf.

"You have failed. The World of Men will fall."

But like Shadowfax, I lost my patience as well.

"You're a bastard!" I shouted, sitting up, away from my hiding spot. "Good riddance to you! I should've knocked you right out of your seat when I gave you Bane! And then I should've laughed at you!"

Oh, shit.

Pippin and Gandalf looked up at me, incredulous at what they saw.

"_Syrene_?" Pippin gasped. "W-What –how – y-you – " He stuttered over words in shock.

Morgomir stared at me, confused. "Syrene? You look nothing like Syrene, Fay. You look too much like Darforth."

"Shut up!" I snapped, but it was too late.

Gandalf already knew who the Fay Evargent was.

"Servant of the Dark Lord." Gandalf stood up, his face etched with fury. "We have had a spy sent from him, Peregrin Took. And we befriended her."

"You did _what_?" Morgomir yelped.

"I don't serve that incomprehensibly insanely idiotic dumbass retard Sauron anymore!" Realizing my insult was rather wordy, I flushed a shade of pink. "I don't!" I protested against Gandalf and Pippin's disbelief stares.

"I really don't! I swear! Sauron lied to me! He – "

But a chorus of horns was heard in the distance. I stopped my ranting and we all looked to the direction of the rising sun.

"I will deal with you later." Morgomir growled in my ear, before turning Bane and flying away to the somewhat new threat.

I gulped.

This was not good. At all.

* * *

><p>Oh, boy, what's going to happen to Fay now? Yikes...<p>

Please review! =D

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	6. Chapter 6

Yo everyone! This chapter will be switching POVs a lot. Try to keep track. Okay?

Enjoy and review! :D

~littledragoneyes

**Chapter 6:**

_Bane's POV: _

Swooping low, Bane could see nothing but a large mass of the orc's army from Mordor. They all seemed restless for something, and then a bit of startled confusion as he could see. And smell.

Towards the rising sun, all he could detect with his poor eyesight was a mass of men, riding on horses, determined for battle. He flicked out his forked tongue, and with keen senses of smell and taste he could smell fear and bravery. He snorted. Bravery? What bravery? All he had smelled with the smell of rotting corpses, blood, death and fear.

He smirked. This would be easy.

But on the other hand, a nagging thought kept pushing into his mind. When he couldn't take it any longer, he let it in and kept thinking about his younger brother, Torn. Only a young, yet lively and energetic fell beast, had already failed his first mission. He really couldn't care, but after all, it was his brother and family was important.

Torn couldn't exactly be the smartest fell beast as well, to his opinion. Awkward, young and slightly annoying. He was clumsy as well, knocking over various things when they played hide-and-seek so that even dummies could find him. Though teasing him only provoked him and made his clumsier than usual, they loved him as a younger brother as usual.

Bane heard Morgomir curse loudly. He winced. The Witch-King of Angmar was always so... competitive and tough. Always so rough and harsh. He couldn't even take a minute and think about the consequences. It was always about duty, and to serve that Lord Sauron.

He snorted. Fay was a much better person. At least she was human, and had feelings. Being alive for a thousand years under the Dark Lord's control certainly rubs away anything humane in yourself.

The smell of the men on horses told him instinctively that they were the Rohirrim. Riders of Rohan and the army. He had to admit, they were a rather good group to fight against. It would be interesting for this battle.

Bane heard the whistle of arrows as that orc general, Gorbag, ordered his orc army to fire at will. But from the sounds of it, they were failing terribly. The Rohirrim must've had a strong amount of men. He admired their strength and determination.

But this was his battle. He was a fell beast, on Lord Sauron's side. He served the Dark Lord, and now wasn't the time to be nice to the enemies.

On Morgomir's control, he banked left sharply, screeching as loudly and terribly as he could to frighten the enemies.

His name was Bane.

He would kill.

Like a vulture, he circled overhead, darting down occasionally to toss soldiers and horses alike over his shoulder and let them crash down onto the ground.

But most certainly Bane had no idea what fate had in store for him.

* * *

><p><em>Pippin's POV: <em>

"W-What –how – y-you – " Pippin stuttered over words, staring with utter shock at Syrene, who was sitting in front of the Witch-King of Angmar on the horrible fell beast. He was stunned beyond belief.

What was she doing up there? That was the first thought that ran through his mind. How did she get there? WHY is she even sitting besides him?

Gandalf stood up, his face full of fury and annoyance. He seemed to know what was going on very clearly.

"Servant of the Dark Lord." He growled at her, and she winced visibly at his harsh choice of words. "We have had a spy sent from him, Peregrin Took. And we befriended her."

_A spy?_ His mind was completely blank, shut down from the alarm. _Serious?_

"I don't serve that incomprehensibly insanely idiotic dumbass retard Sauron anymore!" Syrene - or now, Fay, snapped. It would've been funny, only if the situation wasn't like this, being that she was caught red-handed.

Pippin stared at the golden-haired fourteen-year old in disbelief. He didn't know what was going on, or what she was doing, but all he knew was that he couldn't believe her.

Not after what she did.

"I don't!" She protested, panic evident in her face when she realized that neither Gandalf or Pippin was going to believe her. "I really don't! I swear! Sauron lied to me! He – "

But horns were sounded in the distance, and the fell beast, Witch-King and betrayer swept away hurriedly to see what had happened this time.

Shakily, Pippin turned to the wizard, who was glaring at them from the distance.

"I don't understand." He said quietly. "What is going on?"

"Nothing you should be concerned about, Pippin." Gandalf said gruffly.

"But I want to know!"

Sighing, the wizard told him, "Syrene is not the Syrene we know. The lady who betrayed us is Fay Evargent. I take it that you have not heard of her?" He asked.

Pippin shook his head.

"She breeds all types of creatures for the Dark Lord. She is a servant of him. Also, she helps that wizard Saruman create different inventions and machines, so that's why you have seen many new inventions this past year." He answered wearily. "And it seems that she had been sent to Minas Tirith to spy upon us. And we were fools to not see it."

Pippin gazed off into the distance, hearing the drums of war pounding loudly. He couldn't believe it. Fay didn't seem like that kind of person. He had talked to her, known her, and seen her do enough things to make him thing that she was a good person inside, not bad.

But he would have to wait to find out.

* * *

><p><em>Torn's POV: <em>

He hoped his mistress was alright.

He didn't realize it at first, but he had let Fay fall to the ground, when that blinding, bright light hit his eyes, burning him. It hurt his eyes a lot, but it didn't hurt as much as he finally realized that his mistress was probably dead.

Torn tried looking for her. But his siblings urged him, beckoned him to come home and finally gave in, needing to go home.

He let out a quiet whine. He was now back in Minas Morgul, in his stall. Of course, the other Witch-Kings needed to report to Lord Sauron about Fay falling and all, and now he was in big trouble. Very big trouble, because he was the steed, and he needed to make sure that the rambunctious fourteen year old was safe.

It was dark.

And cold.

Very cold.

* * *

><p><em>Fay's POV:<em>

I closed my eyes for most of it. Morgomir yelled at me, telling me he was trying to teach me how to fight properly, but I didn't want to see it. Because how could you learn when you see death, caused by yourself? How could you even try to watch it?

"Stop it!" I yelled out. "Stop it! Just...just stop killing everyone!"

Obviously he ignored me.

I could hear the Oliphaunt's trumpets and loud stomping on all of the horses and riders. I trained those ones too. How could I? Why didn't I realize it earlier?

But I didn't know how to stop them from doing that. They were brutal, loud and vicious. Even I had a hard time controlling those massive elephants. How was I supposed to stop them...?

But wait.

Maybe I could.

I trained those to do whatever my command was to do.

Maybe it was possible to stop them.

But that was just a theory.

I quickly recognized a single Oliphaunt, near me, below me. "OI!" I shouted, leaning over Bane's hefty shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Morgomir hissed. "You'll fall!"

"I fell once, I can do it again!" I yelled back.

"Hey, you!" I shouted again. Obviously the Oliphaunt didn't hear me but instead, the Haradrim captain did. He looked up, interested to see me. He waved.

"No, not you!" I snapped, exasperated. "It's...forget it."

I leaned back up, weary. I couldn't be _on _Bane, first off.

"Fay!" I heard Morgomir yell at me. "Pay attention! I'm trying to teach you - "

"I DON'T WANT TO FREAKIN' LEARN ANYTHING!" I hollered at him, feeling anger sizzle in me. "WHAT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT THE WORD, NO?"

His voice instantly became cold and icy, startling me. "You will not speak to me in such ways." He hissed. I gulped, shrinking beneath him. "You will respect me. I am responsible for your safety, and if you do not listen to me I cannot help you if you are in danger."

"Fine." I said, trying to sound brave and loud but I sounded like a mouse, cornered by a giant cat. "I'll listen, then. What's the next lesson about?"

Morgomir was pleased. "You will watch and learn how to kill properly."

Somehow I had a bad feeling about that.

He pointed with a gloved hand at a single man, yelling orders. He was obviously the leader or king or something, and he shouted, "Rally to me! To me!" on the plains, gathering his army.

"That brave man, over there?" He said. "You see him?"

I nodded, feeling sick.

"That is King Theoden of Rohan." He explained. "I will show you how to kill a king in the correct way."

I was appalled. "What?" I asked, incredulously. "You're going to use the _King of Rohan_ for practice?"

"Yes." He said smugly.

"You can't!" I snorted. "That's stupid! Don't use him, use someone else?"

"You would like me to kill a soldier?"

I quickly amended my sentence. "NO!" I said hastily. "Not anyone! I know how to do it!"

"You do?" His voice was sly. "Then you would not mind me killing the King? Good."

"WAIT!" I cried. "I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT!"

_Why the bloody hell does everything I do turn BAD? Why the hell can't I keep my stupid mouth shut? _I thought to myself.

It was too late to turn back. Bane was already diving towards King Theoden, hissing and spitting, as other soldiers dove out of the way, frightened by the beast.

"MOVE!" I screamed at him.

But Bane, as idiotic as he was, snatched up Theoden's horse by his fangs, and threw the king on the ground hard. Instantly the horse was killed, but as far as I could see the man was still alive. I watched on in horror.

Bane landed, snarling. He approached Theoden, who was wounded and pinned under his slain horse. Now I wanted to puke.

"Feast off his flesh." Morgomir commanded Bane.

"Don't!" I said, my voice considerably growing shriller with every second. "I promise, Bane, I'll give you as many pigs and cows and deer as you want when we get home, but _don't eat him!_"

But something extremely interesting happened.

A young soldier, just a random soldier from the Rohirrim, moved between the small gap between Bane and Theoden.

"I will kill you if you touch him." He threatened.

"Do not come between the Nazgûl and his prey." Morgomir hissed angrily.

"I'm fine with it." I said quietly.

"Shut up." Morgomir told me.

Bane made a lunge at the soldier, trying to bite her. But somehow he dodged the attack and and with a swift, clean motion, he raised his sword and decapitated Bane.

He decapitated Bane.

He killed Bane.

Bane is dead.

BANE IS DEAD.

"No!" I howled. "What did you do to Bane?"

The fell beast, with his head chopped off, stumbled around, weakened, before falling to the ground, his muscles quivering beneath the leather skin.

Shrieking like a little girl, I leapt off of Bane, and tripped over a dead body. _Smooth move_, I told myself grimly. Then, crawling on knees and hands, I made my way over to Bane, who was now in two pieces and twitching.

I could feel hot tears running down my face. "Bane!" I sobbed.

All of my hard work of raising that adorable fell beast had been washed away. He was the oldest of the ten. He was the first to be born of the litter. I still remember his little nose peeking out of the shell, sniffing away. He was the cutest fell beast in the world and I couldn't ask for any creature better.

Except for Torn, that is.

But Bane was _gone_.

_Forever_.

I watched Morgomir attack the soldier over and over again, not really caring about Bane or I. I even thought he forgot. With his black mace with spikes protruding all over it, he shattered the shield of the Rohan soldier into a hundred pieces. But with that force he even broke his arm, and he cried out, stumbling and falling back.

I couldn't look. He was going to kill that poor innocent soldier and it would've been my fault.

Or somewhat.

Morgomir grabbed the soldier by the throat threateningly, without mercy.

"You fool! No man can slay the Lord of the Nazgûl! Die now!"

I whipped out my sword, fury etched into me. I was just about to stab him when something else appeared out of the corner of my eye.

It was a small man, with curly hair and hairy feet. Dressed up as a Rohan soldier.

"Pippin?" I whispered.

He cast a glance at me. "You know Pippin?" He whispered back. I nodded. He breathed a sigh of relief, but panic swept over him as he saw that the Witch-King was going to kill the soldier. Maybe they were friends. I don't know.

"Wait!" I yelled. "Don't..."

Crawling from behind, he stabbed Morgomir on the back of his knee. Maybe I should've told him earlier that it would kill your arm if you stab or hurt a Witch-King. Damn.

Morgomir stumbled forward, injured, in front of the soldier.

The soldier removed his helmet, and with wide eyes I watched as golden hair tumbled over the man - er, woman's - shoulders, and she panted, obviously tired.

"I am no man!" She snapped.

Then she stabbed the Morgomir through his helmet. My eyes were growing wider with every second. My heart nearly stopped. Somehow I forgot how much bad that Morgomir had created for others. How many he killed, the innocent and brave. What he did.

How he lied to me.

The Witch-King crumbled into a heap, losing his shape and becoming just a helmet and dark cloak. The lady fell back, clutching her arm as well, her face filled with pain and sorrow. Her arm was probably broken as well.

Stunned, I came forward towards Morgomir - or what was left of him.

Kneeling down, I touched his cloak lightly. He was gone. Literally gone.

I raised my eyebrows. He lived for more than a thousand years. That's a long enough time to live.

"Good bye, Morgomir." I said quietly. "You were a good...person...to me. You were like a brother, even though you weren't the best one."

I stood up straight, my facing looking at Minas Tirith. Smoke billowed out of the city, half of its buildings destroyed by catapults. I could see nothing but lots of dead bodies and the smell of death lingering in the air.

"Faramir was the better one, though." I decided.

* * *

><p>Yay! Chapter 6 is finished! This is great. :D<p>

Okay, anyways...my stories are always...fairly short. Huh. Oh well, they're easier to write. Story will be **OVER** in what, a few chapters? Two? Three? I have no idea. So sad. D:

But then again, I always can finish _Pigs Do Fly_...fun story to write. I like that one too.

Enough of my musings, I can't spoil anything. Review, please!

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	7. Chapter 7

HI EVERYONE! I'm in a hyper mood today. :D

Must've eaten one too many candy bars. SUGAR! Yay! So pardon me if I make a typo of some sort, I'll try to be less hyper...!

Short-ish chapter, too! Just to warn you.

~littledragoneyes

**Chapter 7:**

I paused for a minute, and tucked a slender strand of blonde - dirty blonde, actually - hair behind my ear. It was so quiet now. So quiet.

Too quiet.

Watching others wander around pointlessly in the fields, calling out names for their friends who had fought in the battles was just too depressing. More or less, I wasn't allowed back in Minas Tirith anymore. Gandalf and Pippin no doubt had warned everyone to beware of me. If I tried to get back in there, to escape from Mordor and Sauron, I would automatically be killed or be sent into the prison.

I sighed.

Where now?

I guess...my heart plummeted at the answer.

_Mordor_. I thought sadly. I have to go home now. Since the outside world certainly was not the place for me. But maybe I could just run away now...no. There were too many scouts of Sauron around.

I gazed up at the sky, seeing another Witch-King above me. Khamûl was his name. He rode on Ripper, the fell beast who loved to rip his meals up in a gazillion pieces before eating them.

He stared down at me with a dark hood, then at Morgomir who was at my feet. I nudged his cloak, now wishing that the Witch-King of Angmar was back with me.

Nothing was what I could do. I let myself be taken aboard Ripper and Khamûl flew me back to the Tower of Barad-Dur.

My home. But my prison.

It was so dark inside of Mordor. So depressing and cold. Minas Tirith was bubbling with happiness and people and laughter and in Mordor it was just orcs slaving away in the heat.

Daerua was extremely happy to see me.

I slid off of Ripper's back, feeling delirious. Daerua literally leapt on me, hugging me so tightly that I thought my ribs would break.

No, they were already broken, but healing.

"Your arm!" She exclaimed when she took a full look at me head to toe. "What happened to it?"

I looked down. Oh yes, my arm was still broken. A miracle that it survived without me noticing it.

"Oh, I broke it." I said casually, not wanting to talk to her.

"How?" She demanded quickly.

I sighed. "Fell off of Torn, got hurt." Easily explained.

"Goodness!" She yelped, and dragged me to the medicine room. Typical. I was surprised that she didn't force me to rest by tying me down to the bed. Daerua fetched some of her medicine and switched the bandages, wrapping them tightly around.

"They've been in good condition, as far as I could see. Who helped you with your arm?"

"And ribs." I said dully, not thinking straight.

Daerua straightened. "Your ribs? Girl, you've been doing too much!"

Maybe I should've have mentioned it. I regretted it quickly. She instantly ripped up my tunic. I yelped at the cold air that hit my stomach. Daerua tsked, shaking her head and frowned at my wounds. "It's good that you have them bandaged tightly like that. Who did it?" She asked.

"Ioreth." I said automatically.

"Who is Ioreth?" Daerua asked, pausing in her examinations.

"Oh...um..." I said awkwardly. "I...I got to Minas Tirith and...Ioreth's a healer in the Houses of Healing in Gondor. She fixed me up."

She raised her eyebrows. "She is a good healer, then. Fixed you up in no time. I like her."

"You do?" I asked. If I mentioned anything that wasn't Mordor related to any orc or person under Sauron's control, they would wrinkle their nose, frown, and look disgusted.

"Oh, anyone who keeps Fay safe is good for me." Daerua said warmly. "Now hurry. Sauron is waiting for you by the stables. He's speaking with the other Witch-Kings but I'm guessing it's you he wants to really talk to."

My heart sank, but it would do no good arguing.

I hurried down, but in the same time dragging my feet down the steps. I don't want to see Sauron. He was stupid. He was an idiot. He was a twerp.

And a fat liar.

"Fay!" He exclaimed when he saw me, his face drastically changing from worry to relief. "Thank goodness! I thought I had lost you..."

The tall man embraced me with wide arms. I didn't hug him back. But he was so warm and fatherly at the moment and I almost did.

Sauron then realized that something was wrong. "Fay?" He said hesitantly. "What's wrong?"

He took a step back and gave me a strange look.

I looked away. "Nothing."

"Where is Morgomir?" His patience was still holding strong, which was remarkably strange. He must favor me a lot because I remember seeing him lose his temper and patience at various orc captains and lieutenants when they didn't answer him immediately.

"Mmph." I said grudgingly.

"Where is Morgomir?" He repeated.

"Still in the fields." I said quietly.

"In the fields?" Sauron echoed. "Why?"

I shrugged. Then Khamûl approached us, wanting to answer the question. He said, "My lord, Morgomir is dead."

There was a silence. I was holding my breath the entire time, just waiting for an answer. I didn't want no answer to just walk away with, but I didn't want to stand there, rooted to the spot if Sauron had much to say.

"How did he die?" Sauron asked finally.

I exhaled a bit. "Fay would have the answer." Khamûl said shortly.

I tried not to slump. Why did Khamûl make me sound bad? Did he hold a grudge or something against me? What the bloody hell did I do to him? Play with Morgomir more when I was a toddler than with him? What?

"Fay?" Sauron asked.

"He..." I trailed off, selecting the correct words. "Two soldiers killed him. They...they were highly skilled soldiers as well."

Only maybe a month before I would've added the two words, "My lord." at the end of the sentence. Now? No way.

The Dark Lord's mouth thinned tightly, and I could feel his piercing stare on my head as I stared at my muddy boots, seemingly feeling more fascinated at the complexion of soft black leather and mud than looking at Sauron and his cold silvery eyes.

"How has that happened? Tell me everything." Somehow his voice was much more harsher now. Was he angry?

"Um...Bane was killed. Decapitated with a sword." My voice was tight at this and I tried to push the image of a dead Bane to the back of my mind. "So the fell beast was out of the game. And Morgomir started attacking the soldier, and when he finally broke his opponent's arm, he was about to kill him when another soldier came up and stabbed him in the back of his knee."

I continued, "And then the first soldier killed him easily."

The stables was quiet. Even the fell beasts seemed to be listening.

"And he died." Sauron concluded.

"Yes."

"Did you do anything to prevent him from dying?"

My mouth ran dry momentarily, but I quickly gave an answer. "I tried to, but..." I fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Your skill did not match the soldiers' skills."

"...Well...yes." Technically I was too obsessed over Bane's death to really care about Morgomir in those last ten minutes of his life.

"I expected much more from you, Fay."

Shit.

"I'm sorry." I said hesitantly. "Is there any way...I can make it up to you?"

Sauron sighed. "Well, Morgomir originally was going to lead Mordor's army if Gondor and Rohan were going to join forces and attack."

I raised my head, interested. "Gondor and Rohan? Together? Attacking Mordor? Really?"

"Yes." He told me. "But now Morgomir is not here."

"I could do it!" I volunteered immediately.

Khamûl rubbed his forehead, or what was left of it. Probably had a headache of some sort. I hope I caused it for that weird twerp. "My lord, Fay cannot do it. She has already shown that she couldn't defend Morgomir. Why should she do it now?"

"Hey, Morgomir couldn't even defend himself!" I pointed out. "He got beaten by two soldiers. What about now?"

"You cannot even fight."

"Sure I can!" I protested. "I've know how to use a sword, bow and arrow, and I've got Torn!" Then a thought struck my mind quickly.

"Where's Torn?"

Once again, the stables was quiet.

"Are you guys deaf?" I demanded. "_Where is Torn_?"

Still quiet.

"WHERE IS TORN?"

Still quiet.

I was infuriated. "You did something, didn't you?" I threatened Sauron and Khamûl, who were standing silently, not looking at me straight in the eye but facing towards me.

"You did something to Torn! What did you do?" My voice, once again, was growing considerably shriller and higher with every second that passed as I demanded what had exactly happened to Torn.

"Fay." Sauron said quietly.

"Finally!" I threw my hands up in the air. "Hallelujah! Now you tell me!"

"Did you know that Morgomir has told me something very interesting about you when he found you alive after that fall?" His voice was chilly. I froze. My heart almost literally stopped beating. Damnit, Morgomir...you_ bastard.._.

"How could he speak to you?" I said, my voice was probably meek. "You didn't see him?"

"Did you forget? Witch-Kings and I can communicate with our minds. Which is how I could send out orders when they were a far distance away."

"Oh...right..."

"But he did tell me something that he discovered. You know what it is, Fay."

I swallowed nervously. Wait for the blow. I'll be sentenced to house arrest or something, I just _know _it. Maybe I'll die. Yeah, that's it. Maybe they'll sentence me to death for being in Minas Tirith and not helping Mordor by spying or attacking within the city or doing something. Hey, that's not half-bad...I could see Mother and Father again...Faramir too...if Pippin and Gandalf didn't make it in time...and Bane!

"You were in Minas Tirith. And you changed."

I didn't move or say anything. I was speechless. Morgomir _was_ a full-grown nincompoop.

"You were wandering around in Minas Tirith, walking within the walls. You spoke with those citizens. You...became acquainted with them. You, perhaps, even, were around certain people that are meant to be dead. Yet you didn't kill them. You listened to them. Learned from them. And now a certain point of view in you has changed." He said coldly.

I gulped.

"Fay, where does your allegiance lie now? To me, your loving father, or to pathetic, weak liars?"

Damn.

He just crossed a certain line that should never have been crossed...

My head shot up. I must've looked presentably angry because Sauron jerked his head back just a bare inch, from shock and alarm. "You're not my father." I growled. "My father is Darforth. And he respectably knows much more than you do! You're the liar here! You've raised me up, saying that Mordor was the best and the rest of Middle-Earth was dangerous and horrible and all that!"

"But it's not!" I snapped. "I've been out there, and seen it! What do you think you are? Some hero? No! You're a murderer! You've killed off so many innocent lives! You've killed off so many people who unwillingly volunteered to resist you! What's your stupid problem?"

Sauron sighed. "I knew this day would come one day. And today is the day. Khamûl, you will lead the army."

"Yes, my lord." He bowed deeply, and left. I swore I saw him smirk at me, even through his black hood.

"Fay, you will not leave the Tower of Barad-dur without my permission, and _only _my permission. You will not leave your room without my permission. You will not do anything to your benefit or advantage without my permission. And you will be locked in your room and guarded by soldiers. I will send soldiers to your room to take away any weapons to fight with or objects that can be used for communication. Daerua will only be allowed to enter your room, but she will be searched before entering."

"What?" I yelped. "You can't do that! On what charges?"

"For not aiding Mordor in its needs. You could've done much in Minas Tirith yet you did not. And for disrespecting me and shaming our kingdom."

I let out a string of curses. "You can't do that!"

"I can." Sauron told me. "I am your guardian, if not your father. I have every right to protect you. Your parents and I agreed on the fact."

"Forget the contract!" I snapped. "I have every right here to move freely in Middle-Earth!"

"Now you may not." He said. "And this is equivalent of "Go to your room, young lady." It fits your description well."

And just like that, he sent me away. Sauron walked away, looking smug.

"You didn't tell me what happened to Torn!" I shouted. "What did you do to him, you evil - "

With a flick of Sauron's wrist, he had two guards drag me away by each arm, dragging me to my room and up the stairs. "TORN!" I screamed. "DAERUA! SOMEBODY!"

But nobody came. "LET GO OF ME!"

That worked, but just because my room was there. They tossed me in roughly with orc strength, and I stumbled backwards and into my room. It was already searched. Gee, they're pretty fast. Everything was neatly searched through. The bed, mattress, bathroom, cabinets, floor boards, shelves, desks, chairs, behind furniture, and to my embarrassment, the closet and even the very inside of it.

Then the two guards came towards me, their gloved hands outstretched for the weapons still on me.

"Hey!" I snapped, slapping both of their hands. "No touching me! I'm a _girl_!"

"Give up all your weapons." They said, frustrated at my stubborness.

"Fine." I snorted. "You want weapons? Have it at you."

I unbelted my sword and quiver of arrows and also my bow and also a dagger from my belt as well. "Happy now? Gave you all my stuff! Better treat it well. Now go away! I need a bath."

The guards nodded, and then closed the door. I didn't really go into the bath. I just listened as the guards locked my door securely and shuffled in front of it. I heard somebody walk up to them slowly and ask,

"What's going on? What are you two doing?"

It was Daerua. Huh.

"DAERUA!" I screamed, throwing myself onto the door. "GET ME OUT OF HERE! SAURON LOCKED ME IN HERE AND THEY WON'T LET ME OUT!" I pounded my fists on the door hysterically, not affecting the guards or the door at all.

"Really?" was her bored answer. "I'll have to see the lord myself, then..."

Then the footsteps I heard a moment later was leading away from my room and down the stairs.

"HURRY UP!" I shouted.

"I'm _going, _Fay." She said, annoyed.

"You better be." I muttered under my breath. "Or else."

* * *

><p>Whoo-hoo, another chapter DONE!<p>

I'm awesome. :D

Okay, never mind, you're all awesome. So...oh, so sad. _No Escape _is almost done...oh...no...oh well. I have a lot more stories to finish. Hope you like those stories too.

Please review!

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	8. Chapter 8

Hello everyone! Again!

Now I'm very sad. Next chapter is most likely the end. NO!

Oh well. Please review!

~littledragoneyes

**Chapter 8:**

In fact, Daerua did check up with Sauron. Sadly, she couldn't convince him to get me out. Because Sauron's a total jerk, that's why.

I was tearing up the room. What do I have to get myself out of here? Couldn't jump out the window, for sure. I would kill myself just doing that. Couldn't scream for help as well. That would be equally unhelpful and humiliating. Couldn't break down the door _and _get through the guards either. Would be utterly useless.

So what the bloody hell could I do?

Pretty much...nothing.

I had no weapons. No good tools. Nothing. I sank down on the edge of my bed, listening to nothing. I was just staring off into empty space. I needed to get out of here. Fast. But once you're in house arrest there's really nothing you can do.

You just have to wait.

So that's exactly what I did. Waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. And waited.

And of course, waited.

Waiting for what? I don't know. Waiting for whom? I don't know. Waiting for a miracle? Yeah, that's it.

Waiting for a miracle. A damn miracle...

A miracle. That's it! All I needed was a miracle. Something. Well, not a miracle in particular but at least a chance. Something that would fly me away. Since I couldn't fly myself, I needed something to fly on.

To fly on.

Fly.

FLYING.

"That's it!" I snapped my fingers. "Torn! Torn! Where's Torn now?"

Frantic, I bolted to my window and stuck my head out. The stables weren't far. The pen wasn't far as well. I knew that Torn wasn't in the stables, that's for sure. I didn't see him when I was speaking with Mr. Twerp/Sauron.

So Sauron did do something to him, for sure. If he had killed Torn, I would've known. It's hard to hide a dead fell beast. At least, hide the fact that Torn was dead, from me.

So Torn wasn't dead. What's next? If I were Mr. Jackass Sauron, where would I hide Torn...? Where would be the place where Torn would be kept? Obviously for letting me drop, Torn would be put in a torture area. Somewhere dark and cold. Somewhere dangerous.

But where?

I don't know.

Shoulders slumping, I thought hard and quickly. No time to lose, definitely. Where was a place that was dark and cold? Where was a place that was dangerous? Where was a place that no orcs or people would dare to enter?

_Ah, _I thought, smirking. _Now I know._

The lairs of Shelob. Of course. Why didn't I think of it before? Sauron...er, enjoyed putting orcs there for bait for Shelob, to earn Shelob's loyalty. I didn't think much about it, though. Shelob was too far for me to trek everyday to care for her, so I didn't know much about giant spiders in particular.

Wait.

But didn't I have a book on giant spiders?

I bolted to my shelf, and frantically scanned the titles. "Giant spiders," I kept muttering under my breath. "Giant spiders. Where the bloody hell is the giant - aha!"

I ripped the dusty old book off the shelf and plopped it down on the desk. I flipped a couple of pages, hurriedly looking through.

"Okay..." I read the writing. Supposedly, it said, giant spiders could be tamed with bright lights. Very bright lights. That was the easiest way to make for it. But then again...you couldn't tame it any other way.

"Bright lights." I muttered. "How do I get bright lights?"

I frowned. "Mordor isn't very bright in the first place, right?"

Oh, but weren't there three-headed statues? They "watched" the exits into Mordor and they couldn't be passed by Mordor.

I kept reading. _Only the Phial of Galadriel can the bearers get pass the the Two Watchers of the Tower of Cirith Ungol. _Then, in parentheses, were elvish words. Fumbling through, I finally read it as, "Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima." I muttered. "What's that mean?"

Shrugging, I decided to memorize those four words, hoping maybe that it would serve its purpose.

"But I don't have a light." I said, annoyed. I rubbed my forehead. Then I would have to go without it. Torn depends on me now. He may be clumsy enough to drop me, but I still love him all the same. I wouldn't go without Torn.

I grabbed an empty bag from my closet and dumped the book on giant spiders, a few candles and matches, just for "light", and a knife that I found from one of the food trays left on a table. It would work...I guess...very ineffectively.

I also put in a few apples, bread and dried beef, and a full jug of water. If my massive appetite couldn't hold it for that long.

Oh well.

But how would I get pass the guards? I needed to. I really did. Something to distract them, maybe? Yeah. I need a mouse. The old handy-dandy trick of using a mouse to scare guards could work. But I doubt it. Guards were guards - they couldn't be scared by a mouse.

Unless...the mouse crawled into certain parts of the guards' uniforms...after all, I breed all sorts of animals and train them things.

Mice were easily found in all parts of Barad-Dur. Orcs barely swept the halls or mopped the halls. Orcs barely bothered or noticed. And thus, in my room, there were mice.

I gently picked up one and stroke its neck, feeling its furry cuteness. It stared at me with big beady black eyes. "Hey, little fella. Can you do something for me?"

The mouse squeaked. I took it as a yes.

"Can you run up the guards' pants for me? Bite wherever you feel like that would be helpful, can you? It's not hard. I'll reward you later."

The mouse squeaked again, and then leapt off of my hand and onto the floor, scrambling away quickly. I grinned. Cute little mouse. It's a great benefit to be able to speak to animals. Well, not legit speaking, but you get what I mean.

The mouse crawled underneath the small space between the floor and the door, and nimbly crawled onto the black boot of an orc guard. The guards took no notice, as they were engaged in a conversation, bored to death.

The spaces were small, but the mouse managed to creep beneath the orc's armor and under the pants.

Then that's when the orc noticed.

I leaned against the wall, sighing in delight as I heard howls and snarls of pain and alarm just outside my door. When the coast was clear, I sent more mice to unlock the door for me.

Seconds later, the door swung open with a small creak. Two orc soldiers were struggling with a mouse, trying to get it out of their pants. I smiled sweetly at them, and they tried to get at me, but the other mice just kept biting them and the soldiers jerked back from me. I chuckled. Funny little mice. So helpful. I have to reward them sometime...

I crept down the stairs, not wanting to make a single sound, or else. I wasn't exactly sure if anyone else was currently in the tower, since they probably were all preparing for the battle against Gondor and Rohan, but there was a possibility they could be guarding since I was still under house arrest.

Heart beating loudly in my chest like drums, I tried not to stumble, but I was shaking quite a bit. I don't know why, but I was scared, right down to every little bit of my body. Fear clung to me like cobwebs and it was annoying as well.

When I finally got to the end of the staircase, I took a few turns around the corner, staying hidden most of the time in the shadows, behind lamps or statues. There were a few guards, but not many. I just hoped that orcs were stupid and couldn't hear or smell or see things very well.

I proved to be wrong. Well, at least for one of them.

I was walking down a corridor, and there was no one else in the halls except for me. I was just about to turn a corner when I heard footsteps behind me. Holding my breath, I quickly ducked behind a statue, pressing myself hard against the wall, my head bowed.

But, clumsy and quite unaware of my surroundings, I accidentally bumped my bag against the statue, and it set off a _ding_! noise. I cursed silently for my stupidness and waited in the shadows.

The orc's footsteps stopped, and he growled, looking around warily. "Who's there?" He barked. His voice echoed in the halls.

I heard him come forward a bit more and my heart was beating louder than ever. I really hoped that it wasn't beating so loudly that all orcs could hear it in Mordor. Much more for Sauron.

"Come out!" He barked again. I pressed myself harder to the cold damp stone walls.

When nothing came out, or at least, I didn't make anymore evidence that I was currently in the halls with the orc guard, he shrugged and continued on to his post. I shrank against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut when he neared me, but he didn't see me. Then he turned the corner.

I continued sitting there for at least five minutes, mainly because I was still trying to calm myself down. It was terrifying. Once I did, I decided to keep moving on to my next destination. To the weaponry to find my weapons again, and then to the stables to grab a random horse to get to Shelob's lair. Because as far as I could tell, Cirith Ungol was a mighty distance away, although on the map it was depicted as a few inches.

I really wish it _was_ a few inches.

I hurried down to the weaponry without further troubles, and easily found my sword, bow and arrows and my dagger in the far corner of the room. They looked a bit different than the other orc weapons. At least, no other weapons looked as if it came from the world of Men than forged by the orcs. Strapping those on, I made my way quickly to stables for the horses, warily watching out for other guards.

The horses raised their heads at me, interested at the newcomer. Orcs rarely rode on horses. I guess they preferred wargs better, but I breeded these horses for the Witch-Kings before they requested fell beasts, and sometimes I rode on them myself.

Selecting a dark colored stallion, I patted his neck gently and fed him a few carrots. I couldn't waste any time saddling or bridling this beauty, so I quickly leapt onto his back, riding bare-back, although I wasn't quite accustomed to it.

"Quiet, Eclipse." I hushed the stallion. Maybe choosing this stallion in particular was a bad idea. But he was a dark color, and I didn't want to choose a lighter color horse because maybe then I would be caught easily.

He tossed his head, his uncombed black mane flinging itself in my face. I sighed, and looked around. Fell beasts, wargs, horses, farm animals, trolls, and many other creatures were still there. Feeling generous, I released all of the animals into the open. If Mordor was to go down, then the animals shouldn't have to suffer as well. I watched them fly or run off into the distance.

Then I rode Eclipse into a gallop.

In my mind I had a mental map of Mordor. Later, I promised myself, I would brag to Daerua that I really did pay attention in my studies of Mordor. Currently I was slightly south of Barad-Dur, and a bit west of Barad-Dur would be Mount Doom. Then, there was a road leading to an Orc camp east of Morgai and a little-known road, that wasn't used much, that led straight to Cirith Ungol. Straight across the Plateau of Gorgoroth.

A good long way meant for a few days of travel, I guess.

Now I have doubts if the apples, dried beef and bread will last my appetite for those days.

I stayed off the trail, not wanting to be seen. The land was pretty dark, so I had to carefully make our way towards Cirith Ungol. Getting past Mount Doom and the orc camp and Barad-Dur, which had a giant flaming eye planted on top of the tower without getting caught was my biggest priority.

And I best focus on it.

"I'm coming, Torn." I whispered to myself. "I'm coming."

* * *

><p>The orc guard crossed the corridor and headed up the staircase leading to Lady Fay's room. It was the end of those other orc guards' shift, and now it was his hour to guard.<p>

Strange, though. He had heard rumors of Fay befriending the enemies at Minas Tirith and possibly even falling in love with one. He shook his head. It was all a bunch of rumors, nothing more than that. The guards these days made up rumors and false things when they were bored, so nowadays it was hard to know what was the truth and what wasn't.

At the top of the staircase, he found two orc guards sprawling on the ground, desperately trying to get something out of their pants and trying to smack the mice instead but missed dreadfully as the little brown creatures skittered easily out of harm's way.

"What are you doing?" he asked, holding back a bark of laughter.

"Damn you!" They cursed at him. "Help us! Lady Fay has escaped!"

His gaze traveled to the neat yet dark room, and the door was opened. Lady Fay was gone indeed. "Oh...I will inform Lord Sauron at once!"

Then the guard ran down the stairs, taking two at a time.

"Wait!" The other two guards yelled. "You..." He had left them with the mice.

"My lord!" The guard said, panting hard as he approached Lord Sauron. The Dark Lord's face was grim and his expression was set in a particularly annoyed frown. He stood in front of an open window, watching something outside.

"Lady Fay...she is gone!"

Sauron's brow continued to furrow. "This was expected of her." He said tersely, his voice cold and edged with steel.

"What would you have me to do?" He asked warily, sensing his lord's mood was extremely impatient and short.

It took a minute for Sauron to answer. "Nothing. She chose to do this. So be it. Fay is a betrayer of Mordor, yet she is an outcast of the rest of Middle-Earth. That wizard Gandalf and the little hobbit would have already told their friends to beware of her. She does not have any friends to aid her."

"My lord...she is going to Cirith Ungol. Shelob dwells in there. Fay will be killed."

"Then let her rot."

* * *

><p>Two days passed since I left the Tower of Barad-Dur. I was already weary. I forgot how hot it was in Mordor, since Minas Tirith was a milder temperature, just miles away from Mordor.<p>

I was close to the orc camp, past Mount Doom. I haven't been out here for a while, besides Minas Morgul. I've seen it all on Torn, and Mordor seemed a lot smaller from up there. But down here, it took forever.

But the memory of Torn made me keep going. I lost Bane. I wasn't willing to let go of his littlest brother.

And what about Faramir? I needed to know what happened to him, dead or alive.

I wiped sweat from my brow. Eclipse whinnied and stomped, his broad, muscled neck also damp with his own perspiration. His chest heaved, his nostrils flaring. He was already tired and we've been riding for a few hours.

"Alright, Eclipse." I patted his head, sharing his pain. "We'll rest for a bit. But be quiet."

Orcs were already marching out of Mordor, to war. At least if I found Torn in time I could help fight. That would be nice. Yet the first thing was to stay quiet, or else I would be found, then sent back to Barad-Dur. Which was the last thing I needed.

I slid off his steaming back, stumbling onto the ground. I rummaged in my pack, yanking out the jug of water viciously and gulping down a few mouthfuls of water. It was almost finished. I needed to refill sooner or later, or at least save some for later. I fed some water to Eclipse, and then shared an apple with him.

I surveyed the distance between me and Cirith Ungol. A mile? Maybe. Only a tiny bit more. But as I was gazing off into the distance, I spotted two little figures trudging wearily, only 50 meters from me. I cocked my head, frowning, and squinted. They were in orc armor, so they were probably orcs.

But the orcs were marching to war. These little ones...were slowly coming towards me. Shouldn't they be with the others?

I watched one of them stumble and fall onto one of the rocks, and then lay panting. He raised his head, and his hopeless eyes met mine. A little alarmed, he warned his friend, who stared back at me, transfixed.

Then a spark lit up in my brain, and I knew what to do.

Leaping back onto Eclipse, taking my bag, I raced towards the two little orcs - well, little people disguised as orcs. No orcs stumble like that, or had hopeless eyes like that. I knew those eyes.

"Are you alright?" I asked, feeling sweat trickling down my back. The two little men backed away from me warily. Then, one of them yanked out a sword and held it out at me, his grip wavering. The sharp point was directed at me.

"Don't come near us! Or I'll hurt you!" He threatened me. If only the situation wasn't so serious, I would've laughed and said, "Aw, how cute!"

I raised my hands up slowly, as a sign of innocence and peace. "I don't mean either of you any harm whatsoever." I told them gently.

"Who are you?" The same one who threatened me ineffectively asked.

"My name...my name is Fay Evargent." I said. _No lies this time_, I thought to myself. _Or else. Syrene is another person. I'm Fay._ "I used to be a servant of Sauron."

"Stay away from us!" He immediately shouted. I winced. Does everyone hate me now? "Back off, you!"

I continued to have my hands above my head. "No!" I said quickly. "Look, hear me out."

I slid off of Eclipse' back, who stayed perfectly quiet. To show that I was on their side, I stripped myself of all my weapons. "There. Happy now? I don't mean to hurt any of you. I'm running away from Sauron. I'm joining your side. I swear."

They didn't say anything.

"How do you know that we can trust you?" The other one asked, his voice weary.

"Don't speak, Mr. Frodo." The one with the sword hushed him. "Rest for now. I'll deal with this lady here."

I almost smiled. They were so brave. "You can trust me. Really. I want to help. This is no joke." I told them. "But for now, what are your names?"

Hesistantly, they answered, "Samwise Gamgee, and Frodo Baggins. What's your business here?"

"I told you. I'm running away. I'm traveling to Cirith Ungol, to rescue a friend of mine that was put there under Sauron's commands. He did nothing wrong and I want to rescue him from any further harm."

"I trust her, Sam." Frodo said tiredly, his eyelids resting lightly over those bright blue eyes.

Sam frowned, but put away his sword. "Alright then." He said grudgingly. "We are going to...to Mount Doom. To destroy the Ring."

My mouth fell open about a foot. Literally. "You are the Ringbearers?" I asked, incredulously. "Of the Fellowship?"

"Yes." Sam said. "Why do you ask?"

"I just heard about you, that's all." I said truthfully. "And I never thought I would see any of you for as long as I live...just because I live in Mordor and the others may not like me."

"I need water, Sam." Frodo interrupted us drowsily. "Water..."

"I have water!" I said instantly. "Here - take mine - " I snatched the water bottle out of my bag and handed it to Sam, who cast a glance that read I-don't-really-like-you-but-I'll-take-your-word-for-it-but-if-the-water's-poisoned-I'll-kick-your-ass-to-Mount-Doom look.

Sam gave Frodo the water, who drank it gratefully. "Thank you!" He panted.

"Would you like some food? I have some left." I gave them both an apple each. Which left me one last apple for me and Eclipse.

I sat down on a rock, watching them eat. "Mount Doom, right?" I mulled over the situation they just told me. "I can't wait for Mordor to go down." I said wistfully.

"And go back to the Shire." It seemed that Sam had finally let his guard down and sounded like he trusted me. "We're going that way. Straight as we can." He pointed towards the volcano. Then, after some afterthought, he said, "There's no point in carrying anything we're not sure to need."

He threw off his orc armor a moment later into a fissure, and so did Frodo. With some reluctance, Sam also left behind his pans.

"There, that's better." He said happily. "It's not that heavy anymore."

"You can have my horse, if you'd like." I offered them Eclipse, who snorted and looked at them with disgust, probably at how dirty they were.

"Oh, no, ma'am." Sam said quickly. Frodo had not said anything, because he was unconscious for the last twenty minutes we were resting. "We don't need your horse. We can walk. You need it for the last mile to Cirith Ungol."

"But it's dangerous!" I protested. "I have other horses, not just Eclipse here. You really need him. Especially Frodo. One mile isn't a lot."

Sam still shook his head.

"At least have Eclipse guide you." I put in. "He's a smart fellow. He can help you."

Frodo stirred near us. The other hobbit sighed. "Alright then. He can guide us, but we'll return him to you."

I nodded. "Fine, then."

"Speaking of Cirith Ungol," Sam said curiously, "You know old Shelob is in there."

I nodded. "Yes, I know that."

"Um..well, since Shelob is in there, won't you need the Phial of Galadriel?"

I thought for a minute. "Yes, actually, I do need it. Do you have it?"

"We do." Sam fished around in his bag and then held it up. "I won't say the words now, because if I do we'll be spotted for sure. Do you know the words?"

I smiled. He was so polite, and then he handed it to me. "Yes. I will give it back to you when I finish, and then you can return Eclipse to me. Deal?"

Sam nodded, satisfied, then helped Frodo up. The poor hobbit was tired. He really did need some good rest. His bones were standing out and his clothes were torn and ragged.

I watched them get ready for the next step of their journey towards Mount Doom. "I know of other hobbits." I said quietly.

"Really?" Frodo asked. "Who?"

"Um...Pippin. And a wizard named Gandalf."

"They're alive!" Sam cheered. "So those two still live on. What of Merry?"

I shrugged. "Sorry. I don't know Merry."

Both hobbits fell silent, thinking their own thoughts. I picked up my bag and took a sip of water. "Hey, look on the bright side." I said, trying to cheer them up. "Look up. There are stars past the Shadow."

I was right. As we stood gazing up at the stars, the beauty of the those little diamonds glimmering in the night sky. "You've got those stars watching over you. You can make it out. Good luck."

I felt like I needed to say more, but I left them with that.

* * *

><p>Oh...boy! This is getting a bit intense in the next chapter. Next chapter may be longer. I think. No guarantees, though! Hee hee.<p>

So..what do you guys think? I hope you like it. But I feel like editing this story might be major now. :(

Oh well!

P.S. I like reviews. :D

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	9. Chapter 9

HI ALL!

Okay...mm...thanks to a fellow reviewer who pointed out Chapter 5 mysteriously is not part of _No Escape._Hee hee, sorry, my bad. I totally uploaded the wrong chapter of the wrong story. That, I must say, is my fault. But don't worry, I fixed it. So now you can read it! Yay.

Ooh, and for Chapter 8, I edited something. Sam gives Fay the awesome Phial of Galadriel...since...obviously, _something_has to happen in Cirith Ungol and this chapter. So go back and feel free to read it.

Oh yeah, and I lied. This chapter is NOT the last chapter. Chapter 10 most likely will be. Maybe Chapter 11. I don't know, you'll find out. M'kay?

And everyone loves reviews. I happen to too. ;D

~littledragoneyes

**Chapter 9:**

Let me get you in on something: Cirith Ungol is definitely not the happiest place in the world.

Why? First, I had never been to Cirith Ungol before. Second, since I was still under house arrest and escaped, the chances are of asking an orc for directions are slim. Third, it's creepy in here.

But the best thing was that I made it inside. That was good, of course. Now I had to get through this horrible maze and to Shelob's lair, and figure out what to do next later.

Orcs were swarming the tower, grunting and growling at each other. They seemed to be edgy and annoyed with one another today, which wasn't a good sign. So if I were discovered...let's not think about that right now.

Quickly and silently I slipped past a few orc guards, obviously drunken, because they were laughing, or grunting, whichever it was, and acting like drunk people. Believe me, I've seen lots of orcs get drunk and do crazy things. And thankfully they didn't notice me.

I had my sword out and ready, the sharp blade gleaming in the dark, in case something bad happened.

But I was already lost. Maybe asking for directions from Sam and Frodo would have been wiser.

I pressed myself to the wall, heart beating rapidly as I heard orcs coming my way. I cursed silently, frantically scanning the halls for a hiding place, but there was no great hiding spots. Not like Mordor. Then I decided that I would have to fight my way through. But I wasn't exactly the happiest little girl in the whole world about that idea.

Swallowing nervously, I took a deep breath, and began walking again, towards the orcs.

I heard them grunt to each other, still talking. They probably heard me, but didn't think I was a threat of some sort. I sighed quietly. They really were stupid, no doubt about that. I tucked away my sword and prepared myself.

Then I stepped out into the spotlight, praying that I would make it out alive.

"How are you all doin' today?" I said cheerfully, now in their vision and view.

They stopped talking and stared at me. "Who are you?" One of them said to me with a troll-like growl.

"No one of importance." I said innocently. "Um...I'm a guard! The twerp from Barad-Dur - I mean, our Lord Sauron, appointed me to Cirith Ungol..." _Wow,_I thought to myself. _Way to go, Fay. I think you're nearly done for._

They kept staring.

"So...I'm new here." I tried again. _This isn't going to work._

"I need to go to Shelob's lair." I said. "Do you know how to get there? Directions, perhaps?"

Reluctantly, the orcs told me, but with wary expressions on their faces. "Thanks." I grinned at them, and waved goodbye.

As I turned a corner, following their directions, I breathed out a sigh of relief. I didn't even need my sword. Somehow, that was a bit too easy for me. Somehow, I feel as if...dear lord. I feel as if someone is about to find out.

I pulled out my sword once more. If something were to happen, I'll be ready.

_Down the stairs_, I remembered. _Take a right, then go out the back entrance, and then follow a set of steep stair cases down and then BAM! Shelob's lair, here I come._

I did the following.

And met some orcs.

If I may say - intelligent ones. Ones that actually could speak decently.

"Where do you think yer goin'?" They demanded, eyeing me with curiosity. They probably had never seen a human before. Let alone a female. Now I was beginning to feel awkward and extremely anxious.

I glared at them back. "Let me through!" I snapped.

"I asked you a question! Answer it!" They barked, nearing me.

Gingerly, I stepped back. No way in hell do I let them touch me. They're awfully disgusting, no offense.

"I'm..." I decided to use my old lie. "I'm a new guard here!" I said loudly. "My lord appointed me here. I'm on my way to Shelob's lair. I have business to do, mind you. Now if you excuse me - "

"Since when did the Dark Lord appoint pretty little girls like you?" A orc, a particularly fat one, seemed curious.

I snorted. Dimwits probably never heard of Fay Evargent. Oh, that's my pride sticking up like a sore thumb. Let's push it back down again.

"He did, but they couldn't be bothered with you." I said smugly. Someone needs to tell fatso here to back off.

"And now you bother with us."

I fidgeted. Figures..."Yes. Now will you move?"

"No."

I actually stamped my foot in frustration. What didn't they understand about the word "MOVE, I'M BUSY HERE!"?

Wait, scratch that. That's four words.

"Why?" I demanded. "If you don't move - "

"Then what would you do?" He taunted me. He seemed to be enjoy making me infuriated. "Report me?"

"Yeah, I'll do that!" I said. That didn't sound awfully convincing, though. But hopefully they didn't know that, because, well, orcs were orcs and they only earned about five percent smartness that humans had and didn't understand point 2 of what you said unless you said it with grunts and points, like how orcs usually communicated. The dumb ones, actually.

"That sounds convincing." He growled. I gulped. Damn, he was one of the smart ones.

"Can you just let me through?" I was at the point of punching him in the face.

He didn't answer, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eye that made me nervous. "Well?" I demanded.

He didn't answer.

"Great, you asked for it the hard way." I said irritably, and yanked out my sword, barely missing his nose.

About twenty other orc swords were whipped out as well, defending fatso.

I tried to keep my voice calm. Raising an eyebrows, I commented, "Well, Chubby." I gave him a new nickname, and he certainly didn't like it. "Seems like you've got friends. Which is remarkably amazing due to the large chunks of fat stuck to your body, I was doubting that you could ever get people to like you because to be honest, your smell could knock people half-way across the world off their feet and send them running for their lives."

Then I smirked at him and leaned close, leering at him. "No offense. _Chubby."_

That was enough to tick him off. Badly.

He had his knife in his hand, ready to stab, while I raised my sword and lazily pushed it down. "Move it, Chubby."

Chubby didn't move. Instead, he made a move to swipe my head off, and I ducked, yelping. Except I slipped somehow, and knocked Chubby right over. Sheesh, he weighs about eighty tons!

I struggled with the heavy weight, and my sword accidentally gutted him right then and there. Whoops, my bad, Chubby. Sorry.

"Good lord." I growled, shoving him off of me. Orcs dove at him, eating him with their disgusting and horrible ways, eagerly feasting on their new meal. Who knew? Orcs are cannibals. "If at all, he should at least work out sometime."

Then I remembered Torn, and kept going.

The back entrance was empty, so I kept following the instructions until I found a set of steep stairs going down. Wandering around, I could hear the orcs ripping up Chubby back there. They should make Chubby into bacon. Would be a lovely meal.

"Aha." I found the steep stairs going down. "Bingo. Torn, here I come."

Slowly, I sheathed my sword and took the first step down. It was pretty terrifying when you looked down. Shelob's lair wasn't far away, nor was the staircase that long, but it wasn't a pleasant sight to imagine what it would be like if Shelob herself was waiting down there.

I was about half-way down when I heard a rock skitter somewhere around me.

I froze, my hand instantly at my sword at my hip. When nothing else seemed to move, I kept going down. And down. And down. All the way to the bottom, when my hand was starting to feel shaky.

I wanted to turn back badly. I could get lost in Shelob's lair, easily. Swallowing nervously, I decided now would be the time to take out the Phial of Galadriel. I closed my eyes, remembering back to what the words were. What were they...ah, yes. "Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima." I murmured quietly.

The glass bottle lit up after I finished speaking the words, the darkness lighting up around me. It held the light of Earendil's star, and I felt fairly comforted by the brightness of it. As far as I could see, there were...lots of rocks. Tunnels were all around me, just looming their like great shadowy mouths. Where to start?

That...I don't know.

So I would have to pick one and hope it would be the right one.

And I hope I wasn't too late.

I chose the tunnel to my left, since it seemed to be less dangerous. I stepped inside, holding the light out in front of me warily. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling to ground, thick strands of white sticking onto various types of dead creatures, from birds to unlucky orcs, all wrapped up. Skeletons were on the ground, decomposing.

It was cold inside. There seemed to be something always around me, and it gave me chills. Plus, it stunk in here. There were dead corpses everywhere. The smell of death just made my stomach weak.

I let out a shaky sigh, and began to call out for Torn. Because I was lost in this stupid tunnel. "Torn!" I shouted. "Torn, where are you?"

There was no answer. I began to worry. "Torn! Come on out! It's Fay! Your friend! I've come to get you!"

I waited for a good five minutes for an answer, and finally, I heard a tiny cry, very tiny, in the distance. I wasn't sure if it were Torn or something else, but I didn't want to doubt.

I raced forward, getting frustrated by the sticky webs that tore at my face. It was really annoying. "TORN!" I called out again.

A growl was by my side. I looked to my right, and saw a giant spider.

There is definitely something wrong with that sentence.

A growl. A giant spider.

_Ring a bell, Fay?_ I asked myself. _Sure does._

I tripped, shrieking. Shelob, the giant spider, hissed at me, fury in her eyes. Well, one of her eyes were stabbed brutally, her leg seemed to be wounded, and her belly looked like it was recently injured. I was a bit content with her injuries. I would have to thank Sam late.

Yet although I was a particularly good breeder of animals, and I've worked with giant spiders before, I could easily make Shelob turn into a lovable pillow. But I didn't need to turn any of my own animals into lovable pillows because they all liked me. Except for Shelob now. But was now the best time to do it?

No.

Shelob lunged at me, and I shoved the phial at her face. "Back off, you stupid spider!" I snapped. "It's Fay Evargent here! Sauron's my supposed-to-be-dad and he won't be happy with you when he finds out I'm dead!"

Frankly, I don't think Sauron gives a damn thing if I die or not.

Shelob didn't seem to hear me. I don't blame her. She's got a uncontrollable, insatiable appetite for meat and blood. I remember Sauron called Shelob his "cat" before, pretending to claim dominion over this monster. It was his joke. I didn't know at the time that he was a fat liar. Because you see here, this spider doesn't serve anyone but herself.

I stumbled to my feet, frantically warding her off with the light. It seemed to be working. Then, I thrust my sword out at her, and because of her blind eye, she couldn't see the sword from the angle and it hit her shoulder.

Shelob let out a scream of pain, momentarily distracted. That's when I made a run for it.

To Torn in particular? No. Just for my life. And I hope I get to meet Torn on the way there.

Being hotly-pursued by a giant spider who's extremely ticked off is not one of my favorite past times. If possible, I'd like to avoid it in any cost, thank you very much!

"TORN!" I kept screaming at the top of my lungs. "TORN, GET ME OUT OF HERE, WHEREVER YOU ARE!"

* * *

><p>A fell beast lay in silence on the cold ground, his leathery neck chained to a wall, his mouth also closed shut. Torn sighed. There he was, in Shelob's lair. Remarkably still alive. He had to fight off that Shelob several times already, because she was hungry, of course, and wanted to eat him. Until something stole her attention away and she came back, limping and bubbling in her misery.<p>

That's when he heard a shriek. A female shriek, by the sound of it. He raised his head. A female? Why would there be a female?

Then he heard the reason why. "_Torn! Torn, get me out of here, wherever you are!"_

_Fay_? He thought excitedly. _Fay? She's alive! She's come to rescue me!_

He struggled against his shackled bonds, swinging his head frantically to tug the chain off of him. But it was secured tightly. He could speak either, because his mouth was closed tightly by another bond.

Yet swinging his head did serve some purpose, because he accidentally knocked his head against the ceiling in his frenzy, creating a loud bang.

"TORN!" Torn heard his name being called. "HELP ME!"

The voice was getting louder. Fay was close by! He tried to open his mouth. He really tried, using his claws to scrape off the metal bond, and managed to loosen it, but not enough.

_Try harder!_His thoughts told him, urging him on. _Fay needs your help! Shelob is going to eat her!_

He could hear Shelob snarling angrily at Fay. He could hear her every stumble, scream and attempt to ward the giant spider away. Finally, due to the panic rising in him, Torn snapped the collar holding his mouth closed, just as a golden-haired figure leapt towards him, out of the darkness, clutching a bright glass in her hand tightly like it was her life.

"TORN!" She shrieked in delight. Torn yelped happily and he felt her embrace his neck, but their happiness was stopped short as Shelob pounced at him.

* * *

><p>Shelob had leapt straight towards Torn, at his face, dodging his sharp spikes with expert ease and flexibility. I tried to shove her off of my poor, tired little fell beast, but she just swiped her stinger at me and I had to back off.<p>

Torn roared angrily, shaking his head in terror and alarm to make her lose her balance. "GET OFF OF HIM!" I shouted. "BEAT IT SHELOB, YOU SUCK!"

I flung myself at the spider, stabbing her - or attempting to. But damn her, she had enough eyes left to see behind her, so she kept moving back and forth and I kept missing her.

That meant I had to free Torn. "Torn!" I yelled. "Hold still!"

He didn't exactly listen. The fell beast roared again, and I winced at the loud ferocity of the roar. "Please, Torn!" I pleaded.

Shelob bit Torn on the neck, and he let out a pained wail. It alarmed me, so I dove at the giant spider in anger, hacking away at her with my bloodied sword. "Shoo!" I snapped furiously at her. "What don't you get about 'move your butt out of Middle-Earth?'"

The giant spider glared at me, obviously seeing me as a new threat. Torn was injured at the moment and couldn't help me. Looming towards me, she lunged head-first.

I dodged out of the way. Hissing, she hit the ground with cat-like ease and grace, spun around, and advanced towards me. Her black eyes gleamed in the glow of the Phial of Galadriel.

Shelob made another move towards me, but was stopped short as something seemed to snap inside of Torn. Arching his neck, he suddenly darted towards the spider, his jaws wide open, his jagged teeth bared dangerously. I moved away quickly, not wanting to be in the middle of the scene, or else.

Torn's powerful jaws were around Shelob's middle section in a flash. I looked away swiftly. The result would be ugly. All I heard was the giant spider's screams of mercy and pain, before the screaming was cut off abruptly when Torn burped loudly.

I looked back, disgusted. Shelob wasn't there anymore. All I saw was Torn, with a big full belly, looking contented at me with a expression that clearly read, You-didn't-tell-me-that-giant-spiders-tasted-good!

"You ate her?" I asked weakly. I was close to puking.

Torn nodded enthusiastically.

"Good." I agreed. "Let's go now."

I freed Torn from his bonds, and led him out of Shelob's lair. Shelob was gone and done for, and now Cirith Ungol was going to be haunted by her angry ghost. I can hardly resist seeing what Sauron's expression would be like when he found Shelob haunting his ass.

Delighted, I leapt onto Torn's back, and with a flap of his wings, we were airborn again, flying straight for the Black Gates, for war.

* * *

><p>YAY! Did you like it? Tell me in your reviews!<p>

Whoo! _No Escape _is coming to an end very soon…*sniffs*

Ah well. :D

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	10. Chapter 10

Now I have a feeling that **THE NEXT** chapter is the last chapter. No guarantees, though! Hee hee.

Please review! And enjoy!

~littledragoneyes

**Chapter 10:**

I sat with Torn on top of a distant part of the mountain, right near the Black Gates. I could see the Men of the West army standing, a rather large mass. I was quite impressed, yet when you take a look at Mordor...I was feeling quite uneasy about the outcome. Were the good guys going to win? I actually...don't know the answer to that.

I spotted the Mouth of Sauron step out smugly, quite convinced that Mordor was going to win. I frowned and stuck out my tongue at the Mouth of Sauron. Confident, smug little bug. If he really were a bug I'd squish him like a pancake. That would be fun.

Nobody noticed me as Torn crept out closer in my command, so I could at least see a bit better. They were all too terrified or not focusing on their surroundings to notice a smaller-than-average fell beast and a simple fourteen-year old girl crouched above their heads.

Torn, though, was more focused on the Mouth of Sauron. He kept jerking on my reins, as if he wanted to fly down and join the crowd. "No, Torn!" I hissed. "Not now! When the war begins, _then _we go down!"

His head didn't register a single thing I said.

Like usual.

He whined loudly, shaking the reins. Torn was sounding awfully spoiled. "Stop it, Torn!" I whispered, louder. "Not yet!"

Torn shook his head and nosed towards the Mouth of Sauron.

"Yes, I know his breath smells like crap but I can't do anything about it!" I told him, annoyed. "Now be quiet!"

He kept nosing his muzzle towards the Mouth of Sauron. Exasperated, I slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Listen to me Torn! I do not want to be caught up here. If you do _anything_, just _anything, _you will be grounded! Period!"

I was pretty sure I got the point across, but...fell beasts have strange listening skills.

Then I watched as one of them rode casually towards the Mouth of Sauron. The lieutenant of Sauron spoke to him, obviously taunting him, but the man didn't seem offended at all. Then, with a hard clean swipe, his sword sliced the head off of the Mouth of Sauron, unexpectedly. It was almost funny to watch it happen.

I cursed, wincing at the bloody sight. Torn let out a joyful whine, arching that graceful neck of his, and shot forward. "TORN, NO!" I screamed.

Too late. The fell beast already was diving towards the dead body of the Mouth of Sauron. I heard the terrified cries of the army from the West and confusion from Mordor, and the group of men who approached the Black Gates backed away quickly on their spooked horses, alarm on their faces.

Then Torn landed awkwardly, with me clutching his neck, frightened that I might fall off again like I did on my first mission to destroy Osgiliath. He was sliding around the ground and kicking up large puffs of dust and dirt. Then Torn slid to a final stop, and stretching out with his long leathery neck he snatched up the Mouth of Sauron's dead body and head, and gulped it down - well, more of inhaled it - in less than a second.

He chewed nosily as I most definitely heard crickets chirping around the world. Then Torn gulped it down, the bulge evident in his throat as it made its way down to his stomach.

"Okay, that's it!" I snapped, irritated with him. I was quite unaware that I had about eight thousand witnesses watching me scold Torn. "First, you eat Shelob, then the Mouth of Sauron, and I won't be surprised if you attempt a cave troll! Eat when you're supposed to, Torn! And _listen _to me while you're at it."

Torn scoffed, then puffed out his chest and looked away, pointing his nose to the sky in his arrogant pride.

"Don't roll your eyes at me!" I growled. "You're _grounded_, you hear me?"

"Fay Evargent!" I heard someone call me. I whirled around, Torn cocking his head at the newcomer. It was Gandalf, with that little hobbit I met on the Pelennor Fields.

"Servant of Sauron, begone from here!" He shouted.

I gulped, slumping a tiny bit in my seat. _Oh right. They don't trust me. Did I forget? _I thought, feeling slightly crestfallen.

When will this world ever learn to like me?

"Wait!" I shouted back. "I can explain! I don't want to fight against you, I want to help fight against Mordor!"

The man who cut off the Mouth of Sauron's head was skeptical as well. Raising his eyebrows, he said, "Gandalf the White as told us all of your evil doings!" I recognized the air of nobility and regal atmosphere to him. Was he Isildur's heir? Sure sounded a lot like a king. "We cannot trust you!"

"You can!" I yelled back. "Look - "

I jabbed a finger towards Mount Doom. "I met your friends! Hobbits! Sam and Frodo! They are still alive! I swear!"

They were quiet for about five seconds, and then I heard Pippin squeal to his friend, the one I met on the Pelennor Fields, delighted, "Frodo and Sam! They're still alive, Merry!"

"But I thought she was lying, Pip. Gandalf said so." Merry said uneasily.

"I'm not lying!" I said indignantly. "I really am not! I met them! I - I did! I gave them food and water _and _my best horse!"

They didn't seem very convinced, by the looks of it. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Was it just because I grew up under Sauron's care and in Mordor that I was treated this way? What was it with them that made them so angry about how I was reacting? Sheesh, I didn't know Sauron was a fat liar!

See, kids, don't lie to others about the truth. It just ticks me off.

They questioned me. "Do you have proof?"

I sighed, thinking hard. _Did _I have proof?

Wait.

"Yes, I do have proof!" I dove straight into my bag, and held out the Phial of Galadriel, clutched in my hand. "See? The Phial of Galadriel! And I suppose there's only one around here, isn't there? Galadriel doesn't hand these out for free! Watch - Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima!" I said confidently, sure that maybe now they believed me.

The glass lit up, brightly, although it was still daytime, yet the phial would've shone brighter than the sun if I tried comparing. "See?" I asked, feeling satisfied. "There you go!"

"You easily could've killed the hobbits and taken it from them." Someone pointed out.

"Sure, but does Mordor teach elvish? Does stupid Sauron even like elves?" I said. "If I really weren't on your side, would I even _bother_ to learn this stuff? Go through Cirith Ungol to rescue Torn here," I patted my fell beast on the shoulder, "Kill Shelob, then come back here, to fight?" Sighing with relief, I saw that I made a point in some of their minds.

Yet before I could say even more, the Black Gates creaked and swayed open ominously. Behind the gates was revealed a massive army of orcs, marching straight towards the Men of the West.

Barad-Dur was in the distance, the eye staring straight at the supposed Isildur's Heir and I. What was his name? Aragorn, or something? I don't remember. Pippin told me something about him.

_Fay Evargent._ I heard my name being called loud and clear, from the Tower of Barad-Dur.

_Fay Evargent, you have displeased me greatly. _

_Why wouldn't I? _I snapped angrily in my mind.

_Fay Evargent, my good daughter, come back to Mordor. Come back. The ones you wish to ally with will betray you. They will kill you. They do not trust you. _I heard Sauron's patience.

_I wouldn't come back to Mordor even if I had to die. _I said indignantly in my mind. _I hate you. And I know how pathetic that sounds, but it's the truth. You're an idiot, a fat liar, and you're not my father. You never had been, and you can't tell me who to fight for. _

_You dare lay a hand against your father?_

_Yes, I do._ I told him with a smirk on my face, in my mind. _And I told you already - you're not my father. More like a babysitter. A really bad one, mind you._

Then I stuck my tongue out at him for good measure. I saw the giant flaming eye glare at me.

"Pull back! Pull back!" I heard Aragorn shout. "If you truly are an ally," I heard him call to me. "Help us defend Middle-Earth!"

"I will!" I yelled back, and sent Torn up into the air, way above, facing the army of Mordor.

"Ready, Torn?" I gently asked my fell beast.

He chirped brightly, nodding his head enthusiastically and energetically. "And if you manage to kill a Witch-King then you're not grounded anymore." I added helpfully.

Torn's attention instantly focused in on the orc army, which was still marching straight out of Mordor through the Black Gates. He licked his chops eagerly.

Down below, Aragorn was giving his speech. "Sons of Gondor! Of Rohan!"

I cleared my throat. Loudly.

"And...daughter of Mordor..." He added grudgingly, and I grinned.

Then he continued. "My brothers! Sister! I see _in your eyes_ the same fear that would take the _heart_ of me." He spoke loudly and confidently. I admired his spirit and courage greatly. Aragorn would make an excellent king.

"A day may come when the courage of Men fails, when we forsake our friends, and break all bonds of fellowship, but _it is not this day_." I saw some of the bravery being lifted and some even raised their chins higher up.

"An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of Men comes crashing down, but _it is not this day_! This day we fight!"

He kept going. "By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!" Aragorn held his sword up high, the blade gleaming in the bright sunlight.

The soldiers drew their swords, and so did I.

Aragorn wheeled his horse around, determination and faith written all over his face. He was ready for anything.

And so was I. Yet as we waited for our fate to be decided, the orc masses began encircling Aragorn's army. I looked on uneasily.

_You will not win, Fay._ Sauron told me.

_So what? _I challenged him. _We will die trying. _

_Do not do this, Fay. _

_Why not? Like you care a damn thing about me. _

_I do. I do not want to see you fall! Come back to Mordor. You will live here. You will be safe, away from danger and war. _

_Sure. And when I went to Cirith Ungol you didn't stop me, did you?_

Sauron didn't answer.

The orc army was massive. Huge. Terrifyingly large. They circled around our army like wolves, and we were a sick little rabbit waiting for whatever to happen. But whatever would happen, will happen. You can't change it and it's going to stay that way.

A chess game. Waiting for someone to start, instead of White moving first. But I guess we were the White, and Mordor would be the Red. White stood for purity and innocence. Red was the color of blood and the flowing, hot lava of Mount Doom, and also, Sauron's Eye was colored red on the black flags of Mordor.

Then history began, as Aragorn, with a wave of his shining sword, ran towards the orcs, yelling. I saw Merry and Pippin follow him directly afterwards, and a heartbeat later, the rest of the army.

"Let's kill some orcs, Torn." I told my fell beast, and he agreed.

Diving, we were a good advantage. Torn flared out his wings as he neared the ground, catching wind, and knocked a good ten Orcs aside, tossing them into the air and letting them crash, like the good 'ol strategy I learned from the other Witch-Kings.

Torn flapped his wings hard, and regained momentum before plunging back into the mess and picking off Orcs.

We were going good. We were doing very well, helping Aragorn and his army. It was all going extremely well...when...

The other Witch-Kings...they came.

On their fell beasts, they came straight out of Mordor, circling around the army of Men, and were particularly surprised to see me.

I recognized one of them to be Khamûl. He hissed at me, "Fay! What are you doing here?"

"Same as I was going to ask you. What are _you _doing here?" I actually knew the reason why he was here. I was just annoying him because it was funny to tease him.

"On my duty." He replied.

"Then I'm on my duty too! Defending Middle-Earth from your twerp Sauron is my specialty." I said cheerfully.

I was pretty sure Khamûl swore at me. "You cannot!" He growled.

"Sure I can." I replied easily. "And that means I can call you whatever I want. You're pig lard."

"_Excuse_ me?" I bet if he had a face his expression would be priceless. More or less the equivalent of chucking a pie at his face and getting away with it.

"You heard me!" I snorted. "Don't pretend you're deaf and all Khamûl." Then I felt Torn tug on his reins. "Oh, look, Torn wants to kill again." With a happy wave, I let Torn lunge several times at orcs, nearly nicking a few men who got too close to Torn.

And those few men began...attacking me.

I let out a squeak of terror as they shot their arrows at us. Most of them were missed, but one or two hit Torn's foreleg and flank, piercing the dark leathery hide and leaking dark red liquid. I heard the fell beast wail in pain as Torn lifted back into the air in his miserable agony. "You bastards!" I shouted. "I'm on your side! GET IT RIGHT!"

But unfortunately I don't think that they agreed that I was a good person.

And that was when I heard an eagle shriek, and Torn was plowed right over on his side, losing his balance and spiraling down to the ground. I was screaming my head off. "FOCUS, TORN!" I hollered. "DON'T LOSE BALANCE!"

Somehow, my favorite fell beast did hear me, and he flared out his wings and caught air lift. Panting, he flapped his wings, gaining height, and as he was getting his breath back that was knocked out of his lungs, I scanned the mess of a battlefield.

Eagles. They've come, luckily. Except they just don't know that I'm part of the good guys too.

Dark gold and golden feathers blocked my vision again and Torn found himself surrounded. "I'm on your side!" I said frantically, since Torn was injured and exhausted and I was definitely no match for giant, fierce eagles. "Really! I've changed sides! Don't kill us!"

The eagles eyed me warily but took my word for it and flew off, at a caw of another eagle, who seemed to be the leader of them all.

I breathed out a sigh of relief, and returned to fighting.

* * *

><p>The eagles seemed to have gotten along with me, after a good hour or so of fighting. I must've killed a hundred orcs soldiers - maybe more. My sword was stained red and my arms had cuts and slashes and still bleeding profusely. I was panting hard, and it hurt to breathe as well because I probably have this massive bruise on my ribs.<p>

Leaning on Torn, who was resting on a cliff top, a bit of a distance away from the battle that we found refuge in, my body felt weak from blow after blow that the other orcs and Witch-Kings delivered towards the two of us. But I raised myself back up again, and halfheartedly jerked on the reins. "C'mon...Torn, let's give it another go..."

Torn shook his head. He was tired too.

"C'mon, this is a war...gotta fight..."

Torn rolled his eyes, and got up feebly. He swung his head around, his gaze giving me the I-better-get-something-for-this look. I grinned. "Just go." I told him, and he obeyed.

He spread his wings out and leapt from the cliff, and the wind caught his wings easily. Then we dived down again, snatching orcs off the ground one by one.

What I really wanted to do was take out the Witch-Kings, who seemed to have done much damage to Aragorn's army. But poor Torn - how could he live with hurting his older siblings as well? I felt sympathetic when I saw him act less ferocious towards his siblings as he tried to only knock off the Witch-King off their backs instead of taking the fell beasts as well.

But did Torn want to do it?

No, so I didn't try to kill the Witch-Kings.

But a moment later, that's when I heard it.

Well, not heard it, but felt something. A cold, hard tug on my mind. Like something magnetic was trying to pull me towards it. I scowled, frustrated, and turned towards the tug.

And saw Sauron's Eye, staring straight at the eight of the Witch-Kings and I. _The Ring! _I heard Sauron's distressed and hysterical scream. _At the Cracks of Doom! _

All eight Witch-Kings instantly took to his order. With a stroke of their wings, they shot for Mount Doom, hurrying to save Sauron. I could feel myself wanting to head in and help. Torn did too. He strained against my resisting reins, whining loudly. But something else in my mind, was pulling me back. Pulling me back out of the darkness and back into the light.

I couldn't go back to Mordor. I couldn't. After what Sauron did to me and Torn? No. If he dies - too bad for him. I don't care.

"No, Torn." I said very quietly, only for Torn to hear. His frantic pulling against my reins began to soften. "Not this time."

He swiveled his head around, so I could see those dark eyes glinting at me. I saw the reflection of an exhausted, beat-up and worn fourteen-year old girl in his cold yet friendly black eyes. Torn cocked his head in confusion at my words. I patted his head, stroking the leathery skin. "We're not going back to Mordor. Ever."

Torn was a little confused, still. He kept looking back at his siblings, who were flying top-speed towards Mount Doom. He gave me the But-what-about-my-siblings-? look.

My heart felt like it was going to break in two at the sight of his pitiful gaze. He was so innocent! People can be so misunderstanding sometimes. "I'm sorry, Torn." I gave him a weak smile. "But I'm not the mistress of them and it's up to their masters to decide what to do with them."

With a final understanding, he ceased the pulling on my reins and we returned to fighting.

And then I heard a yell. A loud yell, and I recognized it easily.

Whirling around, I spotted a giant troll.

And I mean, _giant_.

It towered over everyone. The height was almost of two men standing on top of each other on shoulders. It was armed with thick armor and a broad sword, and looked quite hysterical.

Frankly, everyone was hysterical, diving out of the way of the giant troll.

Except for me.

I raised an eyebrow, incredulous at the sight. "_Joey_?" I said to no one in particular, but maybe Torn. Why the bloody hell was Joey, the cave troll, out here?

And then I thought of it. Sauron, of course. Why didn't it ring a bell? It's a war zone in this world. Of course Sauron would teach it to be violent and hateful-like.

Aw, poor Joey. He was such a _nice_ troll...

I let out a particularly bad swear and dove for Joey, the troll that I exclusively raised up.

"JOEY!" I screamed over the noise! "OI! JOEY, OVER HERE! IT'S FAY!"

At least it turned around. But it didn't see me.

Ah, is there a reason for this? I think so. Joey has severe sight problems. His nose is quite superior though.

Joey spotted someone else to pick on.

I twisted around, to see who the next poor victim would be and hoped to save that person.

It was Aragorn. Poor fella.

Joey roared loudly at Aragorn, who froze instinctively. Then he slowly turned around and faced a very violent troll.

"Oh, shit." I swore.

Immediately I dived for Aragorn. My newest plan was this - grab Aragorn, get him out of the way, and let Torn eat Joey. Because Joey's generous heart was tainted by evil. I couldn't turn that sweet little troll back to the way he was so I guess the best thing to do was to let him be...eaten...now to think of it, it sounds quite gruesome. Ick.

Savvy?

I've had enough with Sauron's petty interference with my animals. Who was he to take innocent hearts and twist them to evilness? Especially Joey. Yet I'm not particularly sure about Torn's siblings. Were they good? Or had they turned bad? I don't know. Because fell beasts' spirits are particularly hard to meld to evil, and that's something I know for sure.

And then something extremely horrible happened. I don't want to say it, but I have to. Because that's what happened and I wish it never did.

Orcs, I guess I could say first, were the problem. And there were dozens of them with arrows.

So put orcs and arrows together. Makes extremely annoying little orcs.

Put a betrayer, like me and Torn, together, who knows lots of things from Mordor and could most likely be the best target to take out since we know too much to pass it on to the good guys. Makes an extremely good target to want to kill.

And I can say this - Torn isn't exactly the biggest fell beast in the world, yet he couldn't be the smallest thing in the world either.

But I'll say it -

Torn was shot down, by the orcs.

With me on him.

* * *

><p><strong>Was Torn killed instantly?<strong>

I can't tell you, but let's just say the result ain't that great. :(

But - I know I keep thinking that the next chapter is THE END but I'm not sure anymore because I've got quite a bit planned out for Fay and Torn.

AND I plan to do a sequel. I've been debating about it a bunch. So how do you think about a sequel? Tell me if it's good or not. :D

Please review! :)

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	11. Chapter 11

Last chapter! Had fun writing this story, thanks for reading it! :D

R&R are greatly appreciated! You guys are awesome!

And this chapter may be extra-long. Because I just feel like I could squeeze everything in in just one chapter. Or else have a Chapter 12 that's not very long.

~littledragoneyes

**Chapter 11:**

_~Flashback~_

_Torn hit the ground with agonizing pain. His wing was in an awkward position, his legs were numb and his head was spinning, making his dizzy and sick. He could hear Fay screaming for him, roaring from the troll, and shouts from men and orcs alike all around him, from the battle. He could feel streaks of excruciating pain shooting through his body, seemingly paralyzing him._

_Torn couldn't see anything but the confusion from the battle and smelled only death. Where was Fay? He couldn't hear her anymore._

_Actually, he couldn't hear anything at all.__He hoped she was safe._

_But that didn't matter._

_His eyes were going dark..._

_~End of Flashback~_

"**TORN!**"

I bolted awake, screaming like it was nobody's business, and felt raw throbbing along my ribs and my shoulder as I shot out of bed in an upright position. I let out a groan and flopped back down on something extremely warm and soft, squeezing my eyes shut.

Something warm and soft.

Last time I checked, wars weren't soft or warm.

I opened my eyes and found myself staring at a clean white ceiling.

Nor did battles have clean white ceilings.

Looking around, I found myself in a tidy white room, looking very familiar to my memories. I wrinkled my nose, pushing the hair out of my face so I could see better with a heavily bandaged hand.

Then my gaze traveled to my hand. Oh, it was bandaged tightly, you could say that for sure.

I let it drop back onto the covers of the bed lazily, and that's when my mind clicked.

"Torn!" I whispered, feeling my heart plummet and break at the memories. "Oh no..._Torn!_" I felt hot tears build up in my eyes.

The war. The battle at the Black Gates. I...the orcs shot Torn down, and I fell as well. And then I blacked out, and now I don't remember what happened...but Torn! What happened to him? He got hit! He went down!

_Torn..._

The door opened, and in flew a very familiar looking woman.

"Good heavens, she's awake." The woman was old but her eyes spoke of wisdom, as far as I could tell through only blurry, teary eyes. "Are you alright Fay? Why are you crying, child?"

I shook my head, holding my head in my hands, sobbing my heart out, not thinking straight. "Evala! Mayli!" The old woman called. "Fetch some food for the poor child, she must be starving!"

Then the old woman sat next to me on the bed gently and slowly, and laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. "What is wrong?" She asked me kindly, her voice like a sweet grandmother speaking to her youngest granddaughter who was currently bawling her eyes out. What a sight I must be. "Nightmares? Bad memories?"

I sniffed, holding back a sob. "Second one." I mumbled.

"Fay?" I heard her ask me, quietly and hesitantly.

My head shot up and I stared at her with wide eyes. "How do you know my name?" I asked her, shocked.

She laughed, not concerned at all. "I don't think it was too long ago that you were found on the Pelennor Fields, lied, and said your name was Syrene, the name of your mother. I should've known. I knew your mother, Miss Evargent."

I froze. "What?"

"Don't you remember me?" She asked. "I am Ioreth."

It took me nearly ten seconds for me to get it. "Oh!" I said loudly, then flushed a shade of pink at the sudden outburst. "You knew my mother?"

Ioreth smiled, the wrinkles on her face wrinkling even more. Evala and Mayli, the other healers, came in with a tray of food. They gently set it down on my lap and I dove in immediately, not noticing the stabs of pain in my ribs at all. I began chowing it down hungrily, shoveling and stuffing whatever I could lay my hands on into my mouth. Almost ate my fork, too.

"I take it you have not eaten a decent meal in quite a bit?" She asked, quite amused at my hungry antics.

I nodded. "Yeah, keep going on about my mother." I told her.

Ioreth laughed at my impatience. "I knew your mother long ago, before I heard she died. I'm sorry to hear it, although it was a few years ago."

"Wait." I looked up from eating, and swallowed. "I thought, as servants of Sauron, we never had the chance to venture outside of Mordor..."

"Syrene did." Ioreth said simply. "She was born here."

"In _this_ room?"

"Good heavens, no." She said. "But she was born in Minas Tirith and raised in Minas Tirith until she was kidnapped by some orcs and taken to Mordor, met your father and had you."

My mouth was a great round o. I was busy absorbing the new pieces of information that just abruptly had been spoken to me. My mother...was from Gondor. My father...must've been one of the ancestors who lived in Mordor, then. Good grief.

"So..you knew her?"

"I was her nanny."

"Wow." I glanced down at my plate, not feeling hungry anymore. After all that food, I was stuffed. "I'm full." I said a full minute later, randomly.

Ioreth stood up, the place where she had sat still warm. She picked up my tray on my lap. "I will bring this tray back to the kitchen. You should get some rest." She was almost out of the room when I called for her.

"Yes?"

"The battle...who won?" My hand, the one that wasn't half-dead, curled around the covers as unpleasant memories swirled around in my mind like scavenging wolves.

"I cannot tell you, for I was not fighting." Ioreth said. I knew she was teasing me.

"No, that's fine!" I said quickly. "But who won?"

Ioreth sighed. Obviously I was missing something. "Fay, if we had lost, why would you still be in this lovely city ofMinas Tirith?" She asked me. "Why wouldn't orcs be in this room right now? Miss Evargent, thelandofMordorand the darkness has gone." Then, she added before leaving, "The lord will be holding his coronation in a few weeks' time. You will be attending."

"Who's going to be king?" I blinked.

"Lord Aragorn, of course." Ioreth said shortly, and then really did leave.

I was silent.

Outside, people were going about their business and helping to rebuild parts of Minas Tirith, the places that were destroyed by catapults and other things. Other people were just strolling in the streets and talking happily. It was loud with cheer, yet nothing could compete with the shrill loudness of a scream that erupted from the Houses of Healing.

"OH YEAH! SAURON, YOU JUST GOT _DISSED!_ WHOO!"

Birds in a tree near the Houses of Healing immediately took wing, taking to the sky far away. Other people warily stared at the Houses of Healing, shaking their heads, and muttering about how healers should start locking up mental people.

* * *

><p>Life couldn't be better.<p>

Pippin and Gandalf forgave me, and once I could walk again, they both introduced me to the rest of the Fellowship. Including the Mary-Sue. Most of them reacted when they heard that I used to serve Sauron, but I think they were okay with it once they got that I wasn't in his league anymore. I hope, anyways.

"Who's _she_?" A beautiful girl a little older than me stared at me. I stood there, awkwardly, my bad arm in a sling as we met in the streets, with Sam, Frodo, Merry and Pippin by my side. A flustered and exhausted looking Legolas looked utterly helpless as the Mary-Sue held him in a death grip by the hand.

"Mary Sue, this is Fay Evargent." Pippin said cheerfully.

I smiled at her. Hopefully she wasn't too bad. Maybe we could be friends? "Nice to meet you." I held out a calloused and worn hand to shake her hand with, but she only glanced down at my hand as if it were a bug.

_What?_ _I washed my hands today!_

_Maybe not_, I thought as I drew my hand back to my side.

"Aren't you that girl from Mordor?" She asked arrogantly.

"Yeah." I said uncertainly.

"Then why are you here? Shouldn't you be, like, dead or something?" Mary Sue wrinkled her nose.

Man, if I hadn't learned manners and self-restraint, then I would be slugging her across her petite face and then chucking her half-way across Minas Tirith for sure. Or at least punch her and break her nose.

"No." I said, my temper rising. "I'm not."

I side-glanced Merry, who shrugged and looked apologetic.

"See, Mary Sue," Frodo tried to explain, "Fay used to be a servant of Sauron - "

Mary Sue yelped. "Then why are you _friends_ with her?"

"Note the word Frodo used to describe me, '_used to be_'." I said tartly. "Meaning I'm _not anymore_." Could any other person be more stupid? I rather doubt it.

"Oh." Mary Sue still didn't look convinced. "So what did you do for him? Maid or something? Jester?"

_Jester? Maid? What the bloody hell made you think of THAT? Do I LOOK like an entertainer or a housekeeper to you?_

I suppressed a snarl. "Breeder of dark creatures and occasionally helping to create inventions." I said, gritting my teeth together. "A well thought-of rank. Without my creatures or my help and advice on inventions Sauron wouldn't have gotten very far."

"Then it's your fault!" Mary Sue said shrilly, pointing a perfect finger at me. No callouses or worn skin. Her hands looked like they've been perfectly manicured and never worked in their entire life.

In comparison to my rough and tough hands, skinny yet lean and strong figure, straight blonde hair and blue eyes, Mary Sue had smooth, clean, porcelain-like skin, perfect golden wavy hair over slender shoulders, dark and long eyelashes with crystalline blue eyes, like two sapphires stuck on her face. I stared at her. She's insane. "If you did all that, why are you here?"

"Because he lied to me!" I snapped. "None of my ancestors ever came out of Mordor!" _Except for my mother._But I wasn't going to tell Miss Snotty that. "Sauron lied to me and said that Mordor was the best, the others were bad and I didn't know that it wasn't the truth! And then I ventured out of Mordor, found out that he was a liar, and decided that I would fight against him."

"Mary Sue," Legolas said nervously. "Maybe you could let go of my hand, for firsts?"

The pretty yet idiotic blonde girl tossed her golden waterfall of hair over her slender shoulder and batted her eyelashes at the elf. I felt bad for him. I could've puked right then and there. "Oh, let's go somewhere else."

Before she dragged the Elf away, shot me a glare and said snottily, "No offense, Fay, but breeding animals and making stuff isn't really that well-thought of. Like a stable boy and architect."

I stuck my tongue out at her, before turning to the quiet hobbits.

"Why the hell didn't you defend me?" I demanded. "You know the story as well as I do!"

They shrugged. "She thinks we're on her side." Sam mumbled.

"How can anyone be on her side?" I asked.

"Nobody is." Frodo pointed out.

"Good." I said grouchily. "Because she's spoiled, stupid, petty and annoying. How can you put up with her? AND she called me a stable boy and architect! She's so - ARGH!"

Technically I shouldn't be personally insulted because I've insulted plenty of other people before. But for a good reason. Mary Sue, however, just insulted me because of what happened to me during my childhood. Could I helped being a descendant of ancestors who settled down in Mordor randomly? Could I helped being lied to and being gullible to the twerp who raised me up?

No.

"Sad excuse for a Mary-Sue." I huffed. "Perfect my ass!"

"My, Lady Fay. I was never aware that you used such language." I heard an amused and familiar voice behind me.

I let out a timid squeak and whirled around to see a man and woman standing behind me, their hands intertwined lovingly.

My mouth dropped more than a foot. "FARAMIR!" I shrieked. A few passer-bys jumped an inch at the shrillness of my voice, and hurried away, casting concerned or cautious glances towards me, but did I care? Nah, why should I?

I leapt into the laughing man's arms, nearly knocking him over. The woman besides him laughed.

The woman, with fair skin, dark eyes and golden blonde hair looked awfully familiar too. But I'll worry about that later.

"You idiot!" I growled. "You had me worried sick!"

"Did I?" He questioned me playfully. "My apologies."

I grinned and switched subjects. "And seems like you got yourself a _lady_, Faramir." I smirked at him.

The woman introduced herself. "I am Eowyn, White Lady of Rohan." I liked her voice, sounding very feminine and lady-like, yet it was proud and determined and very warrior-like. And she was nothing like that spoiled, wretched Mary Sue.

I was thinking for a few seconds, before blurting out, "Wait, you're the lady who killed Morgomir - ah, the Witch-King!"

Eowyn smiled. "If that is how you would like to remember me as, then yes, I am the lady who killed the Witch-King."

I nodded. "Okay, then."

"And she is also my betrothed." Faramir said happily. I don't think I've ever seen the Steward's youngest son this delighted before, even in the short time that I knew him.

I gawked at them both. "Wait - you're getting married?" I said, stunned. _Why did I ask that?_I thought to myself afterwards. _Of course they would get married - they're lovers! Mmph, I'm not the brightest person when it comes to love and romance and all that lovey-dovey, mushy-gushy stuff. Blegh._

"Oh!" I said a moment later. "Uh-um, er, congratulations!"

_Awkward_?

"Thank you." Eowyn said. "You are invited to the wedding, if you wish to come."

"'Course I'm coming!" I said indignantly, playfully. "Why wouldn't I?"

And must I say it again?

Life could NOT be better.

I wouldn't ask for anything better than now.

* * *

><p>I sat on the bed, just lounging around lazily as I watched birds flit from one branch to another playfully on a tree outside my window. I was lucky to have a tree outside my window, because Minas Tirith didn't have much soil to plant trees in, except for the king's guests or the royal palace.<p>

So technically, that meant I was accepted in Minas Tirith.

I let out a contented sigh. Four months ago I would have never dreamt Sauron was dead, Mordor was gone, and I would be accepted anywhere, much less Minas Tirith. But here I am!

And I was forgetting something as well.

Something very important.

Did I happen to mention I was a very forgetful person?

I heard a knock on the door, somebody rapping the wood three times, sharply, and urgently. "Come in." I called.

The door opened and I saw Eowyn step in. For the past few weeks I've been here, Eowyn's virtually became my best friend. She understood everything I had to say, defended me several times against Mary Sue, and agreed with the fact that women should be allowed to fight. She practically squealed and hugged me when she finally found someone else who thought that it was stupid that women should be able to fight.

"Fay!" I heard her exclaim. "What are you doing?"

I glanced at her, quite unconcerned. "I'm…sitting."

She strode into my room quickly, and promptly yanked me off the bed by my hand. I yelped, due to the fact that she yanked on my bad hand that was healing pretty well, but was still a little sore.

"Don't you remember what day it is today?"

"Midsummer's day." I said easily. "Duh."

Then I remembered.

"Shit!" I swore. "Wait – is today Aragorn's coronation?"

Eowyn sighed, exasperated. "You _just _remembered?"

"I'm sorry!" I said, feeling panic rising. Aragorn wouldn't be the happiest guy if I missed his coronation, accident or not. "When does it start?"

"You have about an hour and a half, but it would be respectable if you arrived earlier."

I breathed out a sigh of relief. I thought she was going to say that it was already starting! Then I would be screwed dutifully. "Great, let's go!" I said enthusiastically, starting for the door, but Eowyn pulled me back again.

"You cannot go around wearing this!" She was, annoyed.

"What?" I looked down. I was wearing a light dress, comfortable, yet it was wrinkled from wearing it too often and stained a little. I favored this dress immensely because it was the only good dress that didn't drag on the ground, trip me or include bows, ribbons, pearls, diamonds, gems, sashes, glitter, shine or anything too fancy. And it was warm.

"It is not suitable for a coronation like this!" Eowyn said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Seriously?" I said in disbelief. "I wouldn't care if I were becoming queen."

"You may not, but others will think lowly of you."

"Does it matter?"

"Of course!"

I was quiet for a minute. "Alright then…" I said slowly. _Alright, alright, I'll wear a fancy-shmancy dress just THIS ONCE, because it's Aragorn's coronation. But don't give me any shish-ka-bob and try to do anything else. _

"Can you help me out of it?" I asked. "I can't really reach the strings at the back."

"You'll need a maid for that." Eowyn said a moment later. "I've never done it myself."

I stared at her. "Great, get me a maid."

"I have one already." Eowyn gestured towards the door, and in stepped another familiar person. I haven't thought a single thing about her since Mordor fell, or else ever thought I would see her again. Why? Because my name is Fay Evargent and I forget things easily. Even important things.

"_Daerua?" _I said, confounded out of my wits. I was never this baffled before. A woman, probably in her fifties, stood in front of me, around my height, and looked exactly the same as before.

"Fay." She said gently, almost longingly, smiling the same smile that I've seen so many times. She held out her arms, and I ran into them instantaneously, hugging her tight. She was like a mother to me, so caring with a tender touch.

"How did you get out of Mordor?" I asked her, feeling bliss and happiness envelope me. I was close to crying tears of joy. Good lord, one good thing after the next! Keep it going, fate! You've treated me quite badly for most of my life, so now's the time to make it up to me!

"After you left for Cirith Ungol, I knew you would find Torn – "

As the slightly rude person I was, I interrupted her. "How did you know?"

But Daerua wasn't offended at all. "I've known you for nearly fourteen years. Of course I would know." Then she continued, "And when you would find Torn, you would be fighting, and I had a strange feeling that I should get out of Mordor, not necessarily that because I knew Mordor would fall, but as Sauron was getting caught up in the war, he wouldn't notice me slipping away. I found one of your horses wandering around in the fields and I rode her to Minas Tirith."

_Her. _I thought. _It's not Eclipse...by the way, where is Eclipse? Didn't get to see him for a bit. Might go down to the stables. _

_Wait...oh no..._

_What about TORN? _

"Torn!" I blurted out. "Where is he?" How could I be so _stupid_? I completely forgot about Torn! I mentally kicked myself for forgetting him. He was shot down, wasn't he? Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn -

Daerua laughed at me. "Don't worry. Torn is fine."

I let out the longest sigh of relief and felt the panic release me. "Oh...good lord...can I see him?"

"No. Coronation first, Torn next." Eowyn butted in, and Daerua stepped forward to start untying the strings at my back.

"But I really want to see - "

"I didn't say that you couldn't see him. Just not now. You need to get dressed."

"But I want to do it _now!_"

"No."

I was complaining and whining and wailing the entire time about wanting to see Torn immediately, as Daerua patiently dressed me, like she did before. I didn't even see what I was wearing when she finished tying the strings and making me look nice before trying to escape, but I met Eowyn, who stood outside to guarding the door so I couldn't bolt outside.

She smiled sweetly. "Back inside." She pointed, and pushed me back in my room.

"But you said I could go after I got dressed - "

"Daerua must fix that atrocious and messy clumps of hair of yours into something nice."

Huffing, I sat down in front of mirror, staring at my reflection as Daerua worked on my hair, talking to me about how happy she was for Aragorn and Middle-Earth becoming free and all that. Not that I didn't care, but hair-dressing and wearing ridiculously fancy dresses wasn't my favorite thing.

In fact, I was wearing a long-sleeved sea-green dress, with elegant lacing on the sleeves and bodice part. It was rather simple, yet the there was some designs and beautiful patterns on the modest neck-line, hem of the dress, and end of the sleeves. It was light as well, well-suited for the warm weather.

"Finished." Daerua proclaimed proudly, standing back to view her work.

It really wasn't anything much, only that she combed every single tangle out of my hair with the care equivalent of a mother and a new-born child. And then she placed a silver circlet in my hair, with a single red ruby cut with perfect precision in the center as the only fancy thing about the circlet.

"What's with the crown?" I asked her.

"Lady of Mordor, aren't you?" She said cheerfully. "I stole it from Sauron's room before I left. He collects fancy crowns like these, and I thought this one was pretty-looking enough for you if you ever got married or had special occasions like this."

"You didn't have to!" I grinned. "And besides, you're a lady of Mordor as well. You should wear something pretty too."

"Should I?" Daerua raised her eyebrows. "I am nothing but a maid."

I glanced up at her. "No, but you're like a mother to me, after Syrene. You deserve something as well."

So I made her pick out the dress she liked the most from my wardrobe, since each and every one of them all had their equal share of gems and satin and laces and beautiful designs on them. Daerua was actually quite happy, so after that, we all headed down to the courtyard of Minas Tirith, where the coronation was just about to begin.

Everyone gathered around, a giant crowd squeezed in the courtyard. I was standing near Eowyn, Faramir, and Eowyn's brother, Eomer, and also Daerua. To my distaste, Mary Sue was also there, not far away, dressed in this elaborate and beautiful silvery-white dress that made her look like she was glowing more than the elves. And she was still clinging onto Legolas like a flea. I saw her smirk at me.

"Now come the days of the king. May they be blessed." Gandalf placed a silver crown on Aragorn's head. Then Aragorn stood up to his full height, and addressed the crowd behind him. Everyone became silent as he began to speak.

"This day does not belong to one man but to all. Let us together rebuild this world… that we may share in the days of peace."

Everyone applauded, and although they were clapping loudly, you could hear a soft song Aragorn was singing in elvish as he made his way to the crowd, acknowledging all of his friends.

He passed by us, and I dipped my head, bowing slightly as he passed by. He returned my greeting with a soft smile.

And then Aragorn met with Legolas and Mary Sue, standing with a group of elves. Dignified as Legolas could be without flinching every time Mary Sue whispered something in his pointed ear, and by the nervous look on his face the whispering probably didn't suit him very well, he placed his hands on each other's shoulders.

"Hannon le." I heard the newly crowned king say to the elf.

And then Legolas stepped aside after a moment, revealing more elves, but dark-haired ones. Aragorn looked momentarily stunned as a gorgeous young elf woman holding a light green banner appeared, and what looked like the young elf woman's father behind her.

I leaned towards Eowyn. "Who's she?"

"Lady Arwen of Rivendell, and her father, Lord Elrond." She whispered back.

I stared at the beautiful elf lady as Aragorn and her both embraced, kissing. "Oh!" I said, a moment later, and began applauding with the crowd as it seemed that Aragorn had a lady friend. "The elf that the Witch-King of Angmar let escape? I like her."

_Wow, _I thought to myself, amused, also speaking to Morgomir if he could hear me today. _Morgomir, you suck. _

And yet Aragorn and Arwen, arm in arm, traveled around the crowd, and through the small windows between the bodies of people I saw four hobbits bow awkwardly to the king.

"My friends!" I heard Aragorn exclaim. "You bow to _no one_."

And then Aragorn bowed, and so did Arwen, and so did everyone else present, before the hobbits. I had to do it as well. I snuck a glance up and suppressed a giggle that finally everyone was shorter than the four hobbits. Not trying to be disrespectful, but it was the first thing that came to mind when I looked up.

And I spotted a dark shape appear in the sky.

I wasn't the first one to spot it, because I heard some shrieks sound through the air like a clear warning bell, before the guards rushed to the balcony closest to the dark shape. It appeared to be a flying creature, because it had spread wings, yet it wasn't very clear to them what it was.

Wasn't very clear, was it?

Mind you, I'm a dark creature breeder. And assistant inventor.

"TORN!" I let out the loudest scream yet. "TORN!"

I ran forward, pushing through the crowd of scampering men and woman and children, diving straight for the balcony. I heard Aragorn's amused chuckle as he probably saw me plowing right through the crowd.

A guard saw me and tried to stop me. "My lady, you cannot - "

"Move it, squirt!" I snapped, and shoved him aside.

Torn let out a delighted squeal once he saw me, and landed on the balcony steadily. He had no arrows sticking out of him, no wounds on his leathery skin, no torn holes in his wings, nothing bad that I could see on him that wasn't healed.

AND HE WAS ALIVE.

I attacked him, hugging his broad neck, a huge smile stretched from side to side on my face. "Torn!" I said giddily. "How are you, pal?"

Torn chirped, confirming that he was good.

"My lady!" I heard a guard shout. Spinning around, I saw guards holding out their bows and arrows, aiming directly at Torn's chest and face. The fell beast whined, offended.

"Don't shoot!" I said quickly. "Or I'll hurt you, I swear!"

"My lady, this is a dark and evil creature! We cannot let it live!"

"He's mine!" I pleaded. "Torn isn't bad! He's a good fell beast, so let him live!" Then I saw Aragorn making his way over here, and the crowd stood a safe distance away, watching with wide eyes.

"Do not release your arrows whatsoever." Aragorn said, coming to my side. I let out a sigh of relief.

"My lord - " A guard tried to intervene, obviously thinking that the new king was a nuthead.

"I forbid anyone to harm this young fell beast. He truly is not an evil creature. If you try to harm this creature in any way, the punishment will be decided by Lady Fay here." Aragorn placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Listen up, boys! The punishment's gonna be a good kick in the - " I said instantly, but was cut off.

"We don't need to hear your declaration, Fay, for we all know that it will be painful to hear, much more do." Aragorn told me.

"Fine." I said happily. "But I'll let you know that it _is _painful, though, because nobody - NOBODY - hurts Torn because you ought to know that you'll have _me _to deal with a second later."

The guards nodded quickly and backed away, putting down their arrows.

After a few minutes, the crowd dispersed into the royal hall, for the feast and celebration. I hung outside with Faramir, Eowyn, Daerua, Torn and poor Legolas was trying to run away from Mary Sue who wanted to do whatever the hell that revolting mind had planned for him.

And poo for Mary Sue, she's never met Torn before.

Torn however, had met Legolas before somehow and was nice to him. Faramir, Eowyn, Daerua and I all leaned against the balcony, just enjoying watching Mary Sue gracefully stumbling over the long trailing gown of hers. As they passed us, Torn let Legolas pass but stamped his claw down on the ground in front of the Mary Sue's path, blocking her.

She let out a gasp of surprise, and tried to go around. Torn blocked her again with his other leg.

Mary Sue tried to go the other way. Didn't work, because he blocked her again.

"Let me through, you stupid thing!"

No offense, but she's the stupid one here because she could very well just go around the other way to Legolas, who was at the steps of the palace, watching at a safe distance away.

"Hey!" I yelled at her. "Don't call Torn stupid! And he's a fell beast, not a thing!"

"I don't care!" Mary Sue said hysterically. She tried another time to go around, but Torn stopped her again. But by accident, the fell beast's sharp claws nicked the long train of the gown and ripped a small piece off.

I mean, it was only about the size of your hand, and she was already screaming her head off.

"YOU DESTROYED MY DRESS!" She screamed at Torn, who jerked his head back, looking sorry. "HOW COULD YOU - YOU - YOU MONSTER!"

Torn looked thoroughly upset, almost close to tears, if fell beasts could cry.

"THIS IS MY FAVORITE DRESS, YOU STUPID, IMPOSSIBLE, DISGUSTING, UGLY BEAST!" Mary Sue kicked Torn on his leg painfully, and he winced, shuffling backwards away from her.

I wasn't going to let Torn suffer anymore. Stepping forward rapidly, both Eowyn, Daerua, and Faramir had to hold me back by each arm tightly. "Let go of me!" I yelled at them. "I have to kick her ass now - "

They let go of me, understanding.

"You're punishment - " I declared loudly over her screaming, and looked up at Torn.

"Hungry, aren't you?" I asked him. He nodded sadly.

"Eat dessert first, buddy." I patted him friendly on his leg, and his dampened spirits were immediately raised, and I looked away smugly as I heard Mary Sue screaming at the top of her lungs when Torn clamped her up in his jaws, and swallowed in a single bite.

And then he burped, Mary Sue's crown coming up with it as well, and it clattered on the ground with fell beast saliva.

After that, life literally ruled.

Legolas practically squealed and danced for joy with Gimli, a Dwarf of the Fellowship, as the dwarf was also happy for his friend when I told him Torn ate Mary Sue to save him the trouble.

Aragorn and Arwen got married. So did Faramir and Eowyn, and I went to both of their weddings.

Torn really wanted a mate, but I would have to find him one later.

I'm turning fifteen soon, and then it would be shortly be the day that I first lended the fell beasts to the Witch-Kings, a full year ago.

And for Sauron, hear me out:

Mordor, indeed, has no escape.

But deliberately bursting your bubble -

I escaped.

SO THERE!

* * *

><p>FINISHED! COMPLETED! DONE!<p>

Sequels, anyone? I'll make one if you'd like! No, scratch that, I think I'll make one anyways. :D

Thanks for reading this story! Don't forget to R&R!

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


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